Last Friday Night
by KristenLynn
Summary: On Saturday morning, Bella wakes up to a broken hand, a trashed apartment, and no memory of what caused either of them! When the photos show up on-line, Bella must figure out what—and who—she might have done last Friday night. AH, fun/fluff
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: On Saturday morning, Bella wakes up to a broken hand, a trashed apartment, and no memory of what caused either of them! When the photos show up on-line, Bella must figure out what—and who—she might have done last Friday night. AH, fun/fluff

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing this entire story in one go! You guys rock! The banner (by the awesome Tkegl) is on my profile page.

**A/N**: This is something that's a bit random, totally silly and just for fun. A crazy plot bunny attacked me the first time I heard Katy Perry's new song _Last Friday Night_. Call this one a bit of a mystery, kind of like a game of _Clue_ in the spirit of _The Hangover_. A who done it, or maybe more aptly, a What the hell did I do? caper. Post-drunken hijinks to ensue…

Enjoy!

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<strong>

**10:00 a.m**.

I come to slowly, same as always—I'm not a morning person—but it doesn't take long for me to realize that something most definitely isn't normal this morning.

The birds that wake me up every day sound as if they are screeching into a megaphone that's aimed directly at my ear. I'm miserably hot and my head is throbbing painfully. All of my limbs feel as if they're strapped to the bed—despite my half-hearted attempts, I'm completely unable to move. My mouth is desiccated, revealing that I did some really heavy indulging last night, and the bad taste that accompanies the dryness lets me know that I fell into bed without brushing my teeth first.

I smile ruefully. It was one hell of a party...

My grin quickly morphs into a confused frown as I realize that everything about last night is nothing but a blacked-out blur. I can't remember anything beyond the first few drinks at Ben's apartment. Granted, I was already pretty tipsy when I arrived, but that's no excuse. I try hard to recall the details—hell, _any _detail—but…

Nope.

I draw an absolute blank.

What. The. Hell?

With a groan, I attempt to pry my eyelids open. There's an uncomfortable pull followed by a painful crunch as my eyelashes come unglued from one another. _Great_. This means I didn't wash my face either. One of those damn crusties somehow works its way inside my still-closed eyelid, causing even more pain. Raising my hand to rub the offending sleep from my eye, I bash the bridge of my nose and my forehead with something bulky and hard. Very hard. So hard, in fact, that light flashes in my eyes.

"Ow!" I groan. "What the hell?"

My eyelids finally pull apart, but another painful flash of light causes me to shut them quickly. Or maybe I'm still seeing stars from whatever it was that clunked me on the head. Hell… I have no fucking clue. Either way, my head hurts like a bitch—the throbbing has intensified ten-fold. So, I roll to my side, burying my head in my pillow in an attempt to make it all go away.

No such luck.

While my sense of sight has been shut off—the light is now blocked—my other senses are in hyper drive. I feel dizzy and nauseous. Wait… I'm not dizzy, I'm spinning. I think I must still be drunk! As I lay face-down, the spinning begins to get worse. I'm definitely feeling sick now. In an attempt to calm my churning stomach, I take a deep breath, but unfortunately, my sense of smell chooses this exact moment to kick in. An unfamiliar scent tickles my nose. Under normal circumstances, I'd probably find it pleasant, but this morning, the spicy smell only upsets my obviously-delicate digestive system even further. When I feel a disturbing rumble, I realize that I have about thirty seconds to make it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach make an inopportune reappearance. Rolling awkwardly from the bed, I stumble to the bathroom.

I make it in time. Barely. But afterward, when I raise my hand to wipe my face, stars once again dance across the back of my eyelids.

"Ow!" I groan again.

Now that my eyes are open, I look down at my arm. Everything's still a little blurry, and I frown at first, confused by the bright blue club that's taken the place of my hand. Then I register that it's not only my head that's throbbing; my hand hurts. Badly. My vision, and my mind, slowly clears.

Damn…

_Is that a fucking cast?_

I take a closer look. Yup, it's definitely a cast. Funny… I don't even remember getting it, but several people have already signed it.

I'll ask again: What. The. Hell?

I continue to stare in fascination at the plaster encasing my arm and hand. From the look and feel of it, I fractured something. In fact, now that I'm focusing on it, the pain begins to intensify; my wrist and thumb hurt like hell. Luckily, it's my left hand; finals start in a little over a week, and I'm right handed.

Wait… How is this lucky? What am I thinking? I might actually have been able to get out of finals if my right hand was broken and I couldn't write. Damn it! This figures. Clumsy Bella can't even break something right.

I shake my head ruefully, but that's a mistake. The throbbing behind my temples resumes, and the whole room fuzzes out of focus when my tender brain sloshes around inside my skull. I groan in abject misery, then awkwardly push myself to my feet and stagger to the sink in order to brush my teeth. When I glance to the mirror, it's even worse than I expected. A deranged raccoon stares back at me. Or maybe it's Alice Cooper. Either way, I still look like road-kill, which is fitting, seeing as that's how I feel. My red-rimmed eyes are surrounded by big, black, smeared circles of eye make-up-gone-horribly-wrong, and my hair is a matted bird's-nest atop my head.

What the hell did I do last night?

After finishing my teeth, I grab a washcloth and attempt to repair the train-wreck that my face has become. I even have to wipe up a few mascara streaks that trail all the way from my cheeks to the base of my throat. Guess it's a safe bet to add crying to the list of no-no's that I partook in last night.

As I clean my neck, I glance down to the clothes that I'm wearing. The T-shirt is one of my favorites, but the shorts? I haven't worn them in years. In fact, the only time I've ever worn these shorts was to the weight-lifting class that I mistakenly signed up for in the fall of sophomore year. It only took one class for Coach Clapp to rectify that error; after I dropped a dumbbell on one of his star athletes, he signed a waiver to excuse me from any further athletic courses. These shorts have been relegated to my 'in case of emergency' drawer ever since. Why the hell would I put them on?

I usually sleep in silky lingerie from Victoria's Secret.

Once I've removed as much of the caked-on make-up that I can with soap and water—and only one hand—I return to my bedroom. One look around and my vague sense of confusion explodes into full-blown anxiety. The tank top and skirt that I was wearing last night are both lying on the floor next to the bed. My bed has clearly been slept in by more than one person. An extra blanket—one that I _never_use—is crumpled atop the comforter, and there are head-indentions in both pillows. That second pillow is a source of morbid fascination. As if in slow motion, I cross the room and pick it up. The spicy scent I detected earlier wafts from the pillow in overwhelming waves that threaten to knock me down. No doubt about it, it's cologne. Men's cologne. I take another sniff, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, and amend my impression: really sexy men's cologne.

What the hell is men's cologne doing on my pillow?

I haven't had a guy spend the night in months. My vagina has been doing a stellar impression of the Sahara ever since I broke up with Mike over Christmas. Not that it was really that much better before we broke up. But I digress. Is it possible that my dry spell ended last night and I don't even remember it?

Running my hand over my body, I take stock. I don't _feel_ like I had sex last night. Nothing's sore in that delicious way that usually signifies a good roll in the hay. But my underwear appears to be missing, and when my eyes dart to my bed-side table, I notice that the top drawer is open, and the strip of condoms that usually remains hidden deep within is now lying on the floor.

Oh, God…

Over the pounding in my temples, I suddenly register another throbbing noise coming from the front of the apartment. Music. Alice must be up. Turning away from the scene of the crime, I hurry towards my bedroom door. Alice and I have one of those apartments that's great for roommates—two bedrooms, each with an en-suite, situated on opposite sides of the den. No shared bedroom walls, which is good when you have a boyfriend. Unfortunately, that hasn't been an issue lately for either of us. Until last night. About which I have no memory. I only hope that she does.

I fling my door open, and all questions for Alice flee my mind as quickly as a whore falling to her knees. Only in this case, there's a good possibility that I might actually be the whore. The throbbing bass of the dance music that's blaring from the stereo has nothing on the pounding pulse that now races through my entire body.

"Alice!" I screech. When she doesn't immediately appear, I yell again.

Over the music, I hear a thump. Her door wrenches open and another victim of road-kill in Alice's clothing appears. Her eyes are half-shut, and she looks just as rough as I did a few minutes ago.

"It's Saturday morning, Bella, and I'm _trying_ to sleep. What the hell do you…" Her voice trails off, mid-question, as her eyes finally focus. Like me, she is stunned into silence.

"What. The. Fuck?" she gasps.

"I know right?"

A tornado has blown through our house overnight. Our kitchen chairs are now scattered throughout the den and couch cushions litter the floor. Empty beer bottles line the kitchen counter, and it appears as if each one of our glasses has been used. The meager bar consisting of one bottle each of rum, vodka, and peach schnapps is now bone-dry. A deck of cards and the random items of clothing—a sock, a belt, a pair of boxers, and oh, is that my missing bra?— scattered around the coffee table suggest that someone was playing strip poker. At least my missing panties are nowhere to be seen, thank God.

Alice and I stare at each other over the destruction that used to be our den.

"What the hell happened last night?" she asks, obviously as confused as me. "Did we get robbed or something?"

"You don't remember?"

"I have no fucking clue."

Damn.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hope you enjoyed the first installment of HangoverBella. This one is all fun and fluff, and I had a blast writing it!

As indicated above, this story is complete (10 chapters) and has already been beta'd in whole. I'll try my best to post every day, but I am in my final two weeks at my current job and things are a bit crazy, so it may be every other day on occasion.

I will be tweeting teasers for future chapters. Come play with me: KristenLynn1121

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****10:30 a.m.**

Alice and I are sitting on the couch in a daze. I've turned off the music, but we don't even know where to start with the mess. It's just too overwhelming. I'm also hesitant to move anything, lest we disturb an important clue as to what might have happened the previous evening. Not to mention, my brain is still having trouble functioning. My head is still fuzzy, and I know if I close my eyes, the spinning will resume.

"Is that a cast?" she finally blurts, a frown on her face.

I hold up the offensive plaster.

"Looks that way."

"What the fuck did you do?"

I turn to look at her. "I was hoping _you_ could tell me."

Her frown deepens, burrows forming between her eyebrows as she thinks. "Shit, Bella. Last night is all a blur."

"What do you remember?" I ask.

"Dinner. I definitely remember dinner." She nods. "That bottle of wine probably isn't helping, though."

"Not to mention the martinis afterwards," I add sheepishly.

She laughs. "How many did you have? I remember having two, but those shouldn't have caused a black-out. I've drunk way more than that before and still had perfect clarity in the morning."

"Yeah," I agree. "I only had two, too. So that's two glasses of wine and two martinis at dinner. Then we went to Ben's."

Ben Cheney is the boyfriend of our sorority sister, Angela Weber. We'd actually planned for the three of us to get an apartment together this year, but when it came time to sign the lease, her parents wouldn't agree to her living off campus for her senior year; they were afraid that she'd party too much and her grades would slip. In hindsight, this probably worked out for the best for her; she and Ben met one week into the school year, and have been going strong ever since, so we probably wouldn't have seen much of her anyway. That said, we'd been looking forward to the party because we knew we'd get some time to spend some time with Angela. However, once we got there…

"Where we ran into Mike," Alice continues tracking the events of the previous evening.

Ah, yes. Mike—the dreaded ex. And his trashy new girlfriend, Jessica. We'd walked in the door to find them canoodling on the couch. As soon as he'd seen me, he swept her into a Clark Gable-type dip and shoved his tongue down her throat. And his hand up her skirt. Seeing their explicit and overly-tacky PDA was enough to make anyone want to drink some more. No one could blame me, right?

"So, there's drink five and six for me," I add, recalling the two cups of hunch punch that I'd downed immediately.

Alice snorts. "And don't forget the Jäger shot."

"I shot Jäger? I hate that shit! Yet another reason to hate Mike Newton, as if I needed any more excuses."

Alice starts shaking in laughter, but much like me, her head is still tender and the giggle quickly morphs into a groan.

"Ow," she moans, lifting her hands to rub at her temples.

Leaning over, I rest my head on her shoulder, and we both sigh. But our moment of shared misery lasts less than an actual minute. We both jump—and I groan some more at the pain that erupts in my head—when someone bangs loudly on our door. Though the door is closed, the sounds from the other side are quite audible.

"Bella! Are you in there?"

It's Angela. She sounds both angry and worried, and I glance at Alice with raised eyebrows. Before I can even stand up, she's pounding on the door again.

"Bella!"

"Coming, coming…" I mutter as I make my way to the door.

I yank the door open just as she raises her hand to bang once more.

"Good morning, Angela," I grumble as I let her in.

"Oh, Bella! Thank God." She sighs dramatically and pulls me into an awkward hug. "I've been calling for ages, but your phone keeps going straight to voicemail. That's not like you, so I had to come check on you in person. Are you okay?"

Before I can answer, she squeezes me a bit harder and continues on.

"I'm so sorry about last night. I had no clue that Mike would be there. He wasn't invited by the way; his 'date' is friends with Tyler's girlfriend, so they came together. Can you believe the nerve of that guy, bringing that slut to a party that he knew you'd be at?"

She finally pauses to take a breath and pulls back to look me over.

"You look like shit, Bella."

"Thanks a lot, Ange."

A frown pulls at the corners of her lips long before her gaze lands on my immobilized arm. Her eyes widen in shock.

"What's with the cast?"

"I wish I knew…"

Angela's frown deepens into a scowl, and I just shrug. Alice comes to my rescue.

"We got totally trashed last night and have no fucking clue what happened, Angela," she hollers from the couch.

Angela turns to look at Alice, and in the process, finally registers the disaster that is our apartment. Her jaw drops. She strides into our den and takes it all in.

"What the hell happened here?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "Didn't you hear me? I just told you—"

"Of course I heard you, but… Wow. Your apartment is destroyed, both of you guys look worse than something any cat I know would ever drag in, and Bella's arm is in a cast!"

Alice nods. "Yup. That about sums it up."

Angela does a great fish-out-of-water impression, mouth opening and closing. "But, but…"

Alice raises her eyebrows as if to say 'spit it out'.

"You really don't remember any of it?" Angela finally manages to ask.

I shake my head and head back to the couch where I collapse next to Alice. "The last thing I remember is seeing Mike as soon as I walked in. I headed straight to the bar after that and downed several glasses of punch, which was obviously pretty strong. Beyond that… not much."

"Well, I can understand _that_. What did you ever see in that jerk, Bella?" Angela wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I still can't believe that he brought that skank to our party! Of course, the Pi Chi's have a reputation as the slutty sorority, and knowing Mike…"

After shooting her a dirty look, I drop my head onto the back of the couch and close my eyes.

"Don't remind me. Although I doubt that he's gotten her into bed yet; she looked way too happy to be making out with him."

Angela laughs. "You mentioned that last night."

I snap my head back up and eye her warily. "What?"

"Oh, yeah. You got quite a kick out of revealing each and every one of Mike's deficiencies in bed to the entire party."

"_No_!"

"I believe your words were something to the effect of, 'You know the saying: It's not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean? Well, Mike, if that's the case, I'm sorry to say that you're just screwed all around, because you got the short end of the stick on both counts.'"

Alice's gleeful snort joins Angela's laughter.

"Oh, that's great!" Then she turns to me. "Is it true, Bella? Mike's a member of the Teeny Weenie Club? How come you never mentioned that before?"

"He was my boyfriend at the time." I shrug. "I didn't want to be disloyal?"

"But now?" Alice prods.

"No reason anymore, right?"

Alice leans forward eagerly. "Just how small is he?"

"Let's just say that even if he had mastered the 'motion of the ocean', it wouldn't matter."

"He's packing a shrimp pistol, huh?"

I have to laugh at the oceanic analogy.

"Jesus, Alice. Where do you get this shit? Shrimp pistol? Really?"

"There's a lot more where that came from. For instance, Mike's pocket rocket's a little short on fuel. Or, that's not a penis; it's a weenis. Ooh, wait, I've got it! It was an itsy bitsy, teeny weenie, useless little half-cock peenie, that Mike stroked for the first time today," she singsongs.

All I can do is groan. Angela, on the other hand, bursts out in laughter and after a moment of concentration, joins in the fun.

"Mike Newton's an arrogant prick  
>With an infinitetesticle dick.<br>His wee little cockle's  
>A bedroom debacle—<br>It's no bigger than a toothpick."

"Ooh, good one, Ange!" Alice enthuses as she reaches over to give her a high-five.

I groan again.

"Glad to see you using your English major, Weber" I grumble. Then louder, "Enough with the penis jokes, guys."

"Oh, c'mon, Bella. We're just getting started; we haven't even scratched the surface yet." A diabolical grin emerges on Alice's face. "Mike's penis is nothing but a second belly button, a gherkin, a midget monkey, a dinky dragon, a micro-cock, a wick prick, a needle dick—"

"I said enough, Alice."

"Damn, Bella. Why you gotta go and take away a girl's fun?" she pouts.

"All good things must come to an end," I state philosophically.

"Yeah, I guess so," Alice agrees with a small sigh. "Besides, all the joking in the world won't help us figure out what happened last night."

"Well, have you talked to anyone else?" Angela asks.

Alice and I answer in unison. "No."

"We just got up a little while ago," I add. "We'd only been up for a few minutes when you started banging on the door."

"Well, you might want to check your phone, see if anyone other than me has called," Angela suggests.

"Good call."

In theory, it is a good call. In practice, it's a different story. I can't find my phone. It's not in the normal place on the kitchen counter, and since I have no memories of the night before, I have no clue where I might have put it. I ask Angela to call me so that I can listen for the ringer, but once again, it goes straight to voicemail, suggesting that I either turned it off or the battery died sometime last night. Looking around is probably hopeless with the mess. Then I recall seeing the skirt I was wearing the previous night on my bedroom floor.

"Hang on a sec," I call over my shoulder as I head back to my room.

Plucking the skirt from the floor, I reach into the pocket and find my beloved BlackBerry.

Bingo.

I frown slightly when a handful of dollar bills fall out as well, but I can't waste time worrying about some pocket change. I quickly return my attention to my electronic lifeline.

The phone is off, but when I hit the power button, it chimes merrily. While it powers up, I head back out to the den. Before I can reclaim my seat on the couch, it starts pinging and dinging, indicating that I have both emails and text messages. I scroll through the texts—all received in the early hours of the morning—but other than a few texts from Jacob indicating that I was at a night club last night, they don't offer any solid information. The majority of them came in after one-thirty, and they're mainly just quick notes sending well-wishes and hoping that I'm all right. I surmise that they were sent after I did whatever it was that I did to my arm.

"Anything?" Alice asks.

"Looks like we went to Trinity last night, where we ran into Jake and Seth. And whatever caused this," I once again raise my hand and flash the oh-so-attractive blue plaster club, "looks to have happened around one-thirty. But beyond that? Not much."

"Well, that's something at least," she replies.

I hit the icon for my email and wait for it to load. When it finally does, my brow furrows.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim.

"What?" they both ask.

"I have a shitload of email. It looks like at least ten alerts from Facebook and…" I pause to mentally calculate. "Probably double that from Twitter."

I open a random message from Facebook, which directs me to a page with a photo.

"Oh, fuck."

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><p><strong>AN:** Poor Bella!

Any of you got any good hangover stories? I'd love to hear'em!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

**A/N:** Sorry guys... FFn won't let me put in web addresses or the 'at' sign in front of twitter handles, so you'll have to imagine just a bit.

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<strong>

**11:00 a.m.**

Alice and I spend the next hour discovering all the photographic clues that our friends have so thoughtfully left for us all over the internet. It's like a treasure hunt of sorts. Unfortunately, I'm not sure that we'll actually enjoy the ultimate prize when we eventually find it.

From time stamps on all the posts, we piece together an itinerary of events from the previous evening.

I remember that we got to Ben's around ten o'clock last night. So, it looks as if the incident with Mike occurred about thirty minutes after we arrived.

**5/6/11 10:35 p.m.**  
>Message from Facebook: <em>You were tagged by Angela Weber in a photo on Facebook.<em>

This picture is actually kind of funny. I'm pointing at Mike's crotch and laughing hysterically. His face is a very unattractive shade of puce, and Jessica is eyeing him with a skeptical scowl. I may have to download this one. And possibly make it my new screen saver. I give Angela a high-five for her obviously stellar photographic abilities.

From the next photos, we conclude that we left the party shortly after that incident.

**5/6/11 10:42 p.m.**  
>Message from Facebook:<em> You were tagged by Lauren Mallory in a photo on Facebook.<em>

Jessica's sorority sister posted several pictures of our departure from the party. There's one of me sliding down the staircase in front of Ben's apartment on my ass, and one of Alice puking in the bushes. Several other messages in conjunction with the photo of me are in my inbox; four people have 'liked' it, and others have left sarcastic comments. Mike left a two word response that was derogatory in nature and questioned my species.

Note to self: change privacy settings to 'friends only' for everything on Facebook immediately.

After we left the party, we headed to one of our favorite local bars, New Moon Tavern. A few messages from Twitter provide links to tweets and photos documenting our time there.

**5/6/11 10:54 p.m.**  
>Message from Twitter: <em>Emmett McCarty (EMc_89) mentioned you on Twitter.<em>

_**Ran into some of R's friends at New Moon. http : / bit . ly / cY7Jk8leH (at)hybrid-rose (at)ugly_duckling (at)shoefreak**_

The link takes me to a photo that is actually kind of cute. It's one of me, Alice and Rose—Alice's roommate from freshman year—standing at the bar in New Moon. I think that Emmett, Rose's boyfriend, must have taken this picture on his phone. Alice and I look a little glassy-eyed, but we're all sharing a drink and smiling. Rose retweeted it a few minutes later. A few moments after that, she also tweeted a picture of me taking a tumble from a barstool.

Thanks, Rose.

I scowl at the image that mocks me from the screen, but upon closer inspection, I'm relieved to find that this picture isn't as revealing as it could be—it was taken from above, so there is no inappropriate flashing of the undergarments saved for posterity to cherish. However, I suspect that the actual patrons of the bar got quite a show.

Moving on….

**5/6/11 11:35 p.m.**  
>Message from Twitter: <em>Rosalie Hale (hybrid-rose) mentioned you on Twitter. <em>

_**At Trinity w/(at)ugly_duckling (at)Shoefreak (at)AlaskanPrincess and (at)SnarkyBabe23 Time to PARTY!**_

The accompanying photo shows us standing in line outside the club with Rose's roommates, Tanya and Irina. We make an interesting, and completely unbalanced, group—Rose and the amazon blondes who all look like perfect-ten models, and the petite brunettes who both look like they've been run over by a Mack truck. Or possibly went ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Really? We were trashed before midnight last night? How much did we have to drink?

There's an exchange of five or six tweets between the three of them over the next ten minutes, all with both me and Alice tagged. The last one includes a picture of all of us toasting each other with those disposable plastic shot glasses you get at clubs.

**5/6/11 12:01 a.m.**  
>Message from Twitter: <em>J. Black (Lone_Wolf) mentioned you on Twitter.<em>

_**Just saw (at)ugly_duckling at Trinity…**_

This is where the text messages catch up. After a few additional texts and tweets confirming our location within the club, we obviously met up with my friend Jacob and his roommate, Seth. And apparently, I danced. A lot. With a pole, with the guys—in a sandwich between the guys actually—and with Alice. Like… _dirty_ _danced_ with Alice.

Over a thirty minute time-span, Rose, Emmett and Jake all tweeted images of all these vile occurrences.

There was one more, as well, sent in private to Alice.

**5/7/11 12:48 a.m.**  
>Message from Twitter: <em>Rosalie Hale (hybrid-rose) has sent you a direct message on Twitter. <em>

_**(at)shoefreak Looks like hell has finally frozen over. http: **__**/ tumblr . com / xy4m7h3x9r**_

Although we can't be 100% certain because the lighting is really dim, in this image, it appears that Alice and I are kissing. I quickly cringe away from the picture. For the first time today, I'm really glad I don't remember much from the previous evening.

"Oh, my God! Ew! What the hell?"

I turn to Alice who is gaping at the screen.

"What did she mean by 'Looks like hell has finally frozen over'?"

Alice—my bold, brash, take-no-prisoners friend—flushes slightly and looks away. As I continue to stare, her flush deepens, spreading to her neck and chest.

"What?" I ask, even more intrigued after seeing Alice's response.

"Um… Well, in freshman year, Rose and I got drunk one night, and she suggested 'testing out' what it'd be like to kiss another girl. I told her, 'No way. Hell would have to freeze over before I'd go down that road. I like cock way too much to ever swing the other way.' Granted, I really hadn't had much cock at that point, but that's not the point, right?"

I nod in agreement.

"So, I guess she was just having a little fun with me last night."

What's the saying? What happens in a night club while wasted stays in the night club, right? There are certain things of which friends will never speak again. This is one of them.

"It's, like, in the vault, right." It's a statement, not a question, and Alice nods vigorously in response. Turning to Angela, who's now watching us in disbelief, I add, "You did not see this. It didn't happen. If there is ever any mention…"

Angela makes a buttoning the lip motion with her fingers over her mouth and tosses away the imaginary key.

At least it wasn't posted publicly.

That's the end of the photographic evidence from the club that's been sent to me. But at this point, do we really need any more? The picture that's been painted across the internet in wide swatches of drunken color is damning enough. Our path of self-destruction is pretty impressive.

I still have no clue what happened to my arm.

Information that Alice digs up on her own accounts fills in some of the gaps. In addition to Jake and Seth, we ran into a few of Alice's friends from one of her design classes at Trinity. Once I was admitted to the hospital, Alice and the majority of our entourage were sent home. A few texts and Facebook messages indicate everyone went back to our apartment to wait for me. One link to a photo shows everyone lounging around, drinking. Our apartment is in far worse shape than it currently is—beer bottles litter every available flat surface, trash is strewn across the floor, and yes, someone is definitely playing strip poker. At least it's not me. But most of the information comes to an abrupt halt after three o'clock when Rose and Emmett apparently left and everyone else passed out.

Yet, no one was here when we got up, and while still trashed, someone obviously tried to pick up a little.

The question is, who?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Poor HangoverBella… Too much to drink and not enough memory! *shakes head and tsks*

Thanks so much for all the funny hangover stories after the last chapter! There were quite a few good ones! Sounds like most of us have had one of 'those' nights. I've had a few… In fact, there may possibly have been an evening that commenced with penny-beer at a club and ended badly in the bathroom at a Waffle House. *whistles and looks heavenward* That said, to my knowledge, there have never been any photos of me plastered all over the internet. Thank God. Of course, that might only be because social media networks were not yet in service while I was in college. (Wait… I really just dated myself, didn't I?) My latest drunken adventure? Got blitzed before going to see Eclipse last summer, which turned out to be a good call, since I don't think I could have made it through sober. Too bad I had to be at work at 8am the following morning; I _was_ still drunk! LOL

Keep'em coming!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****12:00pm**

We're still sitting on the couch, unable to stop staring at the images that mock us from my laptop and the small picture screens of our phones, when Alice's phone rings. She picks it up and frowns at the display.

"It's the hospital," she states before answering. "Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Edward."

She rolls her eyes in response to whatever he says.

"I'm answering the phone, aren't I? Yes, we're up."

She laughs ruefully.

"Yeah… a bit hung over." She pauses and shrugs. "Okay, more than just a bit."

Her eyes shift to me.

"Yeah, she's here."

A frown crinkles her forehead.

"Okay."

Taking the phone from her ear, she holds it out in my direction.

"It's for you."

"Hello?" My voice is tentative.

Why does Edward want to talk to me?

Hell… if I'm honest, it's not the _why_ that's making me feel a bit light-headed. It's that he wants to talk to me, period.

I've been crushing on Alice's older brother for more than three years, ever since the first time I met him when I went home with Alice for a weekend during our freshman year. He's six years older than us, and he's currently an ER intern at UW hospital. Oh, did I mention that he's totally swoon-worthy? Well, he is. He's tall and lanky, yet somehow still solid—the stars from _ER_ have nothing on Edward Cullen in a set of scrubs. He's got amazing dark red hair that's always perfectly mussed; every time I've seen him, it looks like he's been running his hands through it. Or like he just got out of bed. Yeah, he's definitely got the sex hair thing going on. The smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose serve the dual purpose of making him look boyishly sexy as well as accenting his grass-green eyes. All in all, he's the perfect package. Needless to say, if I was one of the editors at _People_, he'd top the Most Beautiful list every year.

I tend to get tongue-tied whenever we run into Edward, so I hope I can pull off this conversation. Wait… Who the hell am I kidding here? I just hope that I can manage to get a few words out without sounding like a love-sick moron.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks. His voice is soft, full of concern.

"Um… okay, I guess, considering that I think I'm still drunk."

He doesn't pull any punches. "Bella, I'm at work, going over your chart. Your blood work just came back. You were more than drunk last night; you tested positive for methylenedioxymethamphetamine."

"Huh?"

"Amphetamines."

_Wait… what?_

"What?"

"You know, drugs?"

I roll my eyes even though he can't see it. "Yes, Edward, I'm aware of what amphetamines _are_. But I don't understand how I tested positive—I didn't take anything last night. I don't do that. _Ever_."

"Um, Bella…" Angela interrupts.

"Hang on a sec, Edward."

Covering the mouthpiece, I turn in her direction, noting that her face has paled. "Yes?"

"What did you drink last night?" she asks.

"I already told you, I don't remember anything beyond those first two glasses of punch. I didn't even remember shooting shitty Jäger, but Alice assures me that I did."

Alice nods enthusiastically.

"Where did you get the punch?" Angela asks.

"From the makeshift bar in Ben's kitchen. There was a punch bowl."

"Who was serving?"

"I wasn't really paying attention at that point. James, maybe? Laurent was with him, I think."

"He gave me a glass, too," Alice chimes in.

"Shit," Angela mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"After you left, Ben found James sharing some pills with a girl. James wouldn't tell him what it was, but Ben suspected it was ecstasy."

"_What_!"

"Ben was so pissed. He kicked them both out. James claimed that he hadn't given it to anyone else, but obviously he lied. I'm so sorry, Bella. Damn. I can't believe I didn't put this together sooner. I'm gonna kill him!"

Anger begins to bubble up within me like a geyser. I feel like I'm about to explode, so I take a deep breath to calm myself before I speak.

"It's okay, Angela. Well, no, it's not okay." I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, in an attempt to maintain my composure. "But it's not _your_ fault."

Returning my attention to the phone, I resume my conversation with Edward.

"Well, Edward, I don't know if you heard any of that, but it appears that someone might have slipped me and Alice some ecstasy last night at a party."

"That would cause you to test positive for MDMA," he agrees. I imagine him nodding.

"So, what do I do about it?"

"Do?"

"What do I do to get over this? Hell, I don't even know what I'm asking." I pause and huff in exasperation. "I've never done drugs before. Can I do anything to get it out of my system quicker?"

"How do you feel now?"

"Alright, I guess. Like I have a really bad hangover."

"Do you want to press charges?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… in situations where drugs are involved, the authorities are usually notified."

_Great_.

"I don't really know for sure what happened, Edward. I drank some punch at a party, but I could have gotten it from one of several people." I pause and huff dramatically. "To be honest, I don't remember anything _at all_ from last night after arriving at that party. So, I guess not."

"Mmkay," he hums. "I just thought I'd check in. Let you know about your blood work and make sure that you were okay. You were pretty out of it last night."

_You can say that again_.

I sigh and nod, although I know he can't see it. What more can I say? He said it pretty succinctly. So, I hum in agreement, but after that, silence descends. And after an additional moment, it becomes a bit awkward. I don't really know what more to say. I mean, what do you say when the guy you've had a crush on for three years calls to let you know you were drugged the night before? Luckily, he breaks our silent impasse.

"Do you really not remember anything from last night?" he asks. His voice sounds strange, pinched almost, and maybe just a little bit disappointed.

"Nope," I answer resignedly. "Unfortunately—or hell, considering the information we've discovered this morning, maybe it's actually fortunate—last night is a complete and total blank."

There's a pause, and I think I hear him sigh.

"I'll check back in with you when my shift is over," he says.

His voice has softened to the gentle, concerned tone that I heard so briefly earlier before he got down to business. The sound of that silken, honeyed tone caresses me in a very intimate way; it sounds as if he's talking to a lover, and I have to admit that I like the results. A shiver of awareness runs down my spine, heat tinges my cheeks, and awareness pools in the pit of my stomach at the images that my brain is quick to project in my mind.

Of course, I don't want him to know any of that.

"Okay? Thanks." I mumble disconcertedly as I hang up the phone.

I turn to Alice and Angela with a frown.

"Well, at least we've now figured out why we have no memory of last night."

"And we've figured out most of what happened, I think," Alice adds.

"Let's hope so," I grumble. "I'm not sure that I can take any more surprises today."

Unfortunately, the uncertainty that has tied my insides into uncomfortable knots lets me know that _that_ is a likely futile hope. And damn it! I just missed a prime opportunity to figure at least some of it out.

Edward was obviously involved in the treatment of my broken hand last night.

I should have asked him if he knew _how_ it happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hopefully you guys are getting as much of a kick from HangoverBella as I'm getting from your tales of drunken debauchery! I snorted quite a lot reading reviews last night and this morning.

At least now you know it wasn't _all_ Bella's fault. And I'll agree with Bella… I have a feeling that there will be a few more surprises still in store for her.

HeeHee. Or maybe more appropriately, HintHint.

:)

KL


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****1:00pm**

I finally got dressed about half an hour ago. A hot shower, although difficult with the cast, felt good and helped to clear my head. Well, the inside of my head, at least. The outside was another story. The massive rat's nest residing atop my head took a shitload of conditioner to brush out, and sadly, quite a few follicles paid the ultimate price.

The shower also provided an additional source of relief—I found my missing underwear. Good to know the bra out front isn't mine. However, my undergarments were piled in the bottom of the bathtub, soaking wet.

Once more: What the hell?

Although I'm now clean, I have a pounding headache. It's a combination of intense soreness from the abuse my hair just took as well as residual effects of the drugs and alcohol. And the uncertainty. There's also that subtle throbbing that lets me know I need to eat something. Unfortunately, it appears as if our impromptu party last night not only made a complete mess of our living area, but depleted the last of our meager food reserves as well. Not only is our bar bone-dry, but anything even vaguely resembling something to eat is long gone as well. So, we put off cleaning up the apartment and decide to go out for lunch instead.

But when we get to the parking lot, I look around in confusion.

"Um, guys? Where's my truck?"

Alice and Angela both frown as we look around the parking lot.

"Okay, let's think for a moment. When did you drive it last, that you can remember?" Alice asks.

"I remember driving to the restaurant last night," I answer. Did I drive to Ben's afterwards? I think I did… I probably shouldn't have—not after the alcohol we consumed at dinner—but it was only a few blocks. "And I think to Ben's?"

It's a question, not an answer. I look to Alice, who nods in agreement.

"We called a cab for you when you left Ben's," Angela reminded me. "So, maybe it's still there. Hold on a sec," she states as she digs in her purse for her phone. After a quick call, she frowns at me. "Well, your car's not in the parking lot at Ben's."

"Um... Bella? I think the lot was full when we got to Ben's last night. Didn't we end up parking on the street somewhere?"

That rings a bell. "Yeah, that sounds right. Guess we'll have to hunt it down. But it's not going anywhere for the time being, and I need food first; I have a horrid headache."

Alice agrees. Angela offers to drive, so we all pile into her car and head to a local sub shop. Over sandwiches and sodas, we mull over all that we've figured out thus far.

"So, after dinner, we went to Ben's, then New Moon, then Trinity, and eventually ended up back at our apartment," Alice states. "Somewhere in there Bella broke her hand, although we still don't know exactly when or how."

That about sums it up. Oh, and let's not forget the stranger who slept in my bed. I still haven't told Alice about that yet. I don't want her to worry. Or possibly get excited. The latter is more likely, and that's what worries me.

"Have you gotten in touch with Rose yet?" I ask.

Alice frowns. "No. She still hasn't returned my call. But she's really bad about sleeping in on the weekends, and if she spent the night with Emmett, they probably stayed up late. I seriously doubt that there was much sleeping going on, so she probably hasn't gotten up yet."

"Damn."

We'd all kind of counted on Rose being our best bet for filling in the blanks.

"I know, right?" Alice responds with an annoyed huff. "Isn't there anyone else we can ask?"

"Aha!" I exclaim. "I can call Jake."

I don't want to mention the dancing pictures again, so I don't, but since I obviously danced with him last night, maybe he can help to fill in some of our missing moments. Or at least tell me what happened to my hand. Yanking out my phone, I punch in his number. Then frown when it goes to voicemail after six rings—Jake usually turns his phone off if he knows that he won't be able to answer. I leave a message, asking him to call me back.

Over the next thirty minutes, I call him two more times, with no luck. On the third try, his phone goes straight to voice mail, letting me know that he's switched it off. I frown at my phone. That's weird. Jake's never _not_ returned one of my calls before. Now, I'm concerned, so I decide to try his roommate, Seth.

He answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Seth!"

There's a pause. A _long_ pause. When he speaks, his voice is hesitant.

"Um… Hi, Bella."

The hair on the back of my neck rises. "What's wrong, Seth?"

"What do you mean?"

The wariness in his voice increases, and I swear I can feel the tension in the air even though we're only talking on the phone. I huff.

"Why are you talking funny? And where's Jake? I've called him several times in the last hour, even left a message, but he hasn't returned my call. I know he must have gotten it, because his phone is now off, and it wasn't earlier."

He sighs. "Jake doesn't want to talk to you right now, Bella."

"What? Why not?"

"Why not?" he repeats, disbelief obvious in his tone. "I would think that you'd know exactly why not."

"Well, I don't. So, spit it out, Seth."

"C'mon, Bella," he chuckles wryly. "It doesn't take a scientist to figure out why he's pissed at you. You were there, last night. At the club?" he prompts.

_Great_. I did… _something_, and now Jake's mad at me. He _never _gets mad at me. This isn't good. At all. This time, I sigh in frustration.

"_I don't remember anything from last night_," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?"

I sigh again and enunciate more clearly. "I don't remember anything from last night, Seth."

He snorts. "Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious. Turns out I was given something at a party early in the evening. I have absolutely no memory of anything between ten o'clock last night and when I woke up this morning."

He laughs again. "Sure, sure…"

"I'm not kidding, Seth. Someone from the hospital called this morning to inform me that I tested positive for amphetamines. Looks like I was drugged; it was probably ecstasy."

"_What_?"

Now, he sounds concerned. _Finally_.

"Yeah."

"Oh, gees, B."

"I know, right?"

There's a moment of strained silence. I decide to break it.

"So, Seth, what happened last night?"

There's another uncomfortable pause.

"Um…"

"Wait. Is he there? Can you talk?"

"No. I mean yes, I can talk. Jake's not here. It's just… awkward."

_Shit. What did I do?_

"What did I do?" I ask warily.

"You punched him, Bella."

"What?"

"Yeah. He's got one hell of a bruise, and he thinks his jaw might be broken. He just left for the student health center."

That probably explains why my hand is in a cast. But why would I have punched my best friend? I must have asked that last question out loud because Seth is answering me.

"He, uh, kissed you."

Why the hell would he do that? Jake knows that I don't like him like that.

"Why the hell would he do that?"

Another moment of silence. Followed by a huff.

"You _were_ sending out a lot of mixed signals last night, being all flirty and touchy and shit," he finally states. "And that dance?"

I cringe when I think of the pictures that I saw earlier.

Seth sighs dramatically. "Hell, Bella… You know how he feels. How he's felt for years."

Yes. Unfortunately, I do. Jake's harbored a not-so-secret desire to be more than friends for a long time—ever since high school. I've just never felt the same. As I just mentioned, I don't like him like _that_. I never have. Jacob Black is my best friend, the younger brother I never had. He's family, and I love him. But not the way he wishes I would.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah."

"What do I do?"

"Just let him cool off. He'll forgive you eventually. He always does."

I groan, and Seth laughs softly, sadly.

"It'll be okay, Bella. I'll talk to him. Tell him about your… _memory loss. _And the cause for it."

"I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"To be honest, I don't either. But, it is what it is. Besides, this is nothing new; just the typical imbalance."

"Oh, man. This sucks. Bad."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Seth."

Like I just told Seth, I don't know if I feel better or worse for knowing the truth about what happened last night. I drop the phone on the table, squeeze my eyes shut and rub my now-throbbing temples.

"What?" Alice and Angela ask in unison.

"I found out how I did this," I state, lifting my arm and waving my plaster-covered hand wildly in the air.

"Yes?" they prod.

"I punched Jake."

Their jaws drop, and they both speak at the same time.

"What?"

"Why?"

I nod.

"Because he kissed me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The plot thickens. LOL Okay, maybe not so much (this is after all, only fun/fluff), but at least we're starting to learn more about Bella's disastrous evening now.

So… have any of you had that one guy friend you loved, but not like _that_, not the way he wanted you to? What did you do when he pushed the limits a bit too far? Or were you the one who wished for more? I've been in both situations, and neither are great.

Thanks for reading!

p.s. I can't reply to your review if your PM's are turned off. Please know that I've read and appreciate each and every review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>2:00 p.m.**

I was wrong earlier.

"It _has_ to be around here somewhere," I grumble.

"I don't remember walking very far," Alice muses.

Which means that it has to be on this block somewhere. However, we've driven around the block where Ben's apartment is located three times, with no luck—my truck is nowhere in sight. It's a large, beat-up, ancient Chevy pick-up that all my friends refer to as an eye-sore, so there's no way we could have driven past and missed it. It stands out, in a bad way, at least according to them. I, on the other hand, love it, dents and dings and all.

"Did we put money in a meter?" I ask.

Alice squishes her entire face into a contemplative frown. "I don't think so, but we wouldn't have had to at night; the meters only run from 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Hell, did we even park at a meter?"

The problem is, I'm not sure. If we did, it's now the middle of the afternoon. The meter maids would've been out in force this morning, looking to zap anyone who'd been parked overnight and hadn't yet paid. Like me. But still, the truck should have been here, even if it had multiple parking tickets.

It's not here.

"Maybe you can call the city?" Angela suggests. "See if they towed it?"

I sigh in resignation. Pulling out my Blackberry, I run a search for the phone number for the Department of Transportation. We head back to Ben's while I make my phone call. After thirty minutes, and several transferred phone calls, I finally have an answer.

"Damn."

"They towed it?"

"Yup. Seems it was parked in the middle of the soccer field two blocks away. The city had to come tow it away before the soccer club could start their games this morning. Damn, Alice. Were we that drunk last night? Did I really park in the soccer field?"

"I don't think so." Her forehead crinkles. "My memories might be fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure we parked on the street."

She walks to the door, and I follow her through it. We walk down the stairs and peruse the street. After scanning the parking meters, both up and down the street, Alice nods emphatically.

"We definitely parked on the street." She points to the corner. "Over there, by that stop sign."

Now that she points it out, I vaguely recall parking my truck there. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"So, how did your truck end up in the soccer field?" Angela muses.

After all the craziness we've discovered the morning, this is nothing. It's just par for the course. I shrug.

"I have no idea…"

"Wait." Angela's eyes first go wide, then narrow speculatively. Then she smacks her forehead. "Ugh. Damn it! I should have known…"

"What?" Alice and I cry in unison.

She turns to look at me with a gleam in her eyes. Her answer is a one-word growl.

"_Mike_."

We both yelp again. "What!"

"About half-an-hour after you left last night, he, Tyler, Eric and a few others left for a little while. Said they 'had to take care of something'. When they came back, they were all flushed and sweaty, and they giving each other high fives. I heard one of them mumble something about payback. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now I think it's pretty obvious that they moved your truck."

"How?" I ask. "I had my keys."

"Who knows, but obviously they did. Too bad we don't have concrete proof," Angela laments.

"We might…" Ben's deep voice sounds from behind us. I don't know when he joined us, but it's obvious that he's overheard most of our conversation. When we turn to look at him, he nods towards the security cameras in the corners of the complex's parking lot. "I can talk to management, see if they got anything on film."

"That'd be great, Ben." I smile at him. "Thanks."

I turn back to my friends. "In the meantime, my truck is downtown in the impound lot. Let's go see if we can bail it out."

Forty-five minutes later, and $250 poorer, the guy at the impound lot delivers my truck. Luckily, there's no apparent damage; seems as if Mike was just being spiteful, not destructive. However, it was still an inconvenience. Not to mention, it drained my bank account, even with a bit of help from Angela and Alice. The good news is that I can take the case to court, which I fully intend to do since I was not the one who 'parked' my car in the soccer park. If the apartment complex comes through with video footage, it should be a slam-dunk case.

Running my hand lovingly over the dented fender, I sigh in relief to have my behemoth back. So many happy memories are associated with this truck. My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday after he bought it off Jacob's old man. We—Jacob and I—spent hours driving around Forks and the neighboring towns in this truck. I smile as happy memories of singing at the top of our lungs while our hair whipped around crazily flood my mind. Then my smile fades…

In my drug-induced haze last night, I may have lost my best friend. I can't let that happen.

I turn to Angela.

"Hey Ange?"

"Hmmm."

"Can you take Alice home?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I have an errand to run."

They both look at me knowingly. Alice reaches for my hand and gives a supportive squeeze. Angela nods.

"Thanks, guys," I reply.

Turning quickly, I hoist myself up into the cab. Stabbing the key into the ignition, I pump the clutch while I put it in gear. When the engine roars to life, I punch the gas and peel out of the impound lot. I'm glad to be leaving this place, but where I'm going is a bit scary.

I have a lot of explaining—and apologizing—to do.

~ / ~ / ~

When I walk in the door a little over an hour later, Alice is all concern.

"How'd it go?"

I shrug. "About how I expected."

"Is everything all right?"

"I think it will be."

Hurrying over, she gives me a hug. "I'm sorry. I know he means a lot to you." She pauses for a minute. "But, maybe this is for the best?"

I pull back. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he can't have any doubts about how you feel now, can he? You were drunk _and_ high, and you still shot him down, cold. Maybe this will help him move on. Maybe in the long run, this will strengthen your friendship?"

I sigh. "He mentioned something like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Something to the effect of: 'Hell, Bella, you turned me down, even when you were drunk and high. If I ever had a shot, it was then, yet you still had no interest at all.'" I sigh again. "He even mentioned something about how he knew he was pressing his luck but decided he had to try. Finally, he admitted that he didn't even blame me for hitting him, admitted he was the one who pushed limits that he shouldn't have. He was horrified that I broke my hand."

"See?" Alice says while leaning in to give me another squeeze.

"We decided to take a few weeks to let things cool off. But we also agreed that neither of us wants to lose the other. We just need to… reevaluate a bit."

"I knew there was a reason I liked Jake," Alice whispers. "He's good people."

I nod. "The best."

A moment later, a clearing throat coming from the direction of the doorway causes us to jump apart.

"If the love fest is over, you guys really should get back to something more productive, like picking up this shit-hole. It looks like a disaster struck last night."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Gah! More fvckery from Mike. Haha. And in this world, Jake really is a friend and feels bad for what happened (unlike canon Eclipse Jake who really pisses me off).

Thank you guys so much for all your reviews! I'm loving all your stories of drunken mishaps and relationships-gone-awry. Keep'em coming!

Sorry for the delay, but the shit really hit the fan at work yesterday. Things are completely crazy right now, so it'll probably be hard for me to keep up with the every-day posting schedule, but I promise that I will update at least every other day. Thanks for your understanding.

: )

KL


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>5:25 p.m.**

I look up to find Rosalie standing in the open doorway to our apartment. Her voice may be derisive, but she's smiling at me. Her gaze drops from my face to my arm, and the smile morphs to a concerned frown.

"How's the hand?"

"Could be better."

She laughs. "Yeah, I imagine it could. Then again, that was one hell of a punch you threw last night! I didn't know you had it in you, Swan."

"You saw what happened?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, yeah." She might as well have said 'duh'.

"And…?" Alice prompts.

Rose's eyes slide to Alice. "Hell, Alice, you were there. The two of you were practically making out right before it happened…" Her voice trails off, and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Alice's cheeks flush bright red, and Rose chuckles in response. But at our blank stares, she once again frowns.

"Don't either of you remember anything?"

Alice scowls. "I told you in the message I left that we didn't remember anything."

"I thought you were joking. Just pretending that last night never happened. I know _I'd_ want to pretend it didn't happen." She chuckles gleefully.

"No joke, Rose," Alice laments. "Turns out we unknowingly took something at the party last night."

Rose's eyebrow quirks. "Something?"

The scowl turns into a pensive frown, and Alice sighs softly. "Yeah. They think it was probably X."

Rose's eyebrows rise even higher, as if in disbelief.

"X? As in the drug? Ecstasy?" she asks, astounded. Then her eyes narrow speculatively. "And who the hell is 'they'?"

"The hospital—well, Edward—called this morning after Bella's blood work came back. She tested positive. Since we have the same symptoms…" Alice shrugs.

"Oh man."

"Yeah."

I'm getting impatient as Alice rehashes the generalities of the evening to Rose. I'm ready for the specifics.

"What happened, Rose?" I ask.

She turns back to me, and her furrowed brow relaxes. The gleeful smirk reappears on her lips.

"Well, _you_ were dancing. With anything and anyone. And it really wasn't pretty," she says with a laugh.

Now, I'm the one scowling. "Yes. We gathered that from the pictures you so considerately posted on the internet for us," I remind her.

The cheerful tinkle of Rose's amusement echoes through our apartment. I have to admit that it rankles just a bit. My scowl deepens, and I cross my arms defensively on my chest.

"_Trust me_, Bella. Those pictures didn't tell the entire story. In fact, they barely scratched the surface. Most of those were pretty tame. I didn't post the really naughty ones; I wouldn't do that to you. But the way you went down on that pole… Well, in some states, that's probably illegal. You did make a buck or two when you flashed your panties at some of the guys, though."

"What!" I sputter. Wait. Is _that_ why there was a handful of singles in my pocket this morning? "Oh, my God," I groan. "This isn't happening. This isn't happening…"

The giggle turns into a full-on guffaw.

"Sorry, sweets, but it _did_ happen, and I have the photographic evidence."

She taps her pocket, where I assume her phone is stashed. Of course, that doesn't really even matter. Those pictures are all over the internet—and all of our friends already have access to them.

Closing my eyes, I bring my hands to my face. And once again bop myself with the damned cast. I, too, have evidence of the devastation from the previous evening, even if I can't remember it.

"Okay. So, after I danced—badly—what happened. Jake told me that he kissed me, and that I punched him, but he didn't really give me any details, and I was too embarrassed to ask."

The amusement fades from Rose's face. "Yeah, he kissed you all right. After you danced with the pole, you danced with him and his friend. And then Alice. I think the fake kiss you shared with Alice really pissed him off."

"Fake kiss?" Alice cuts in. She sounds incredibly relieved.

Rose rolls her eyes. "Of course it was fake, Alice. You like cock, remember?" She smirks.

"Thank God," Alice whispers and shoots me a relieved look.

"You guys did that thing where you put a hand over your lips and fake kiss," Rose continues. "But you did it at an angle where he wouldn't see it. Nothing turns a guy on more than two girls making out, and they were panting all over you two. When Bella went to the bathroom, he followed. I didn't like the determined look on his face, so I followed him. I got there just in time to see him grab your hand, spin you around and plant one on you. It would have been incredibly romantic, if you weren't standing there, stock-still, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. You said something when he came up for breath, tried to pull your hand away, but he obviously wasn't listening and wouldn't let go. When he went in for the second attempt, you decked him. Left-handed, no less. It was really quite impressive."

"Impressive. Most impressive." Alice says in a faux-deep voice accompanied by loud breathing.

I roll my eyes. Now is not the time for _Star Wars_ quotes. Especially when it's a shitty-at-best Vader impersonation.

"What a mess," I mutter.

"Well, it sounds as if it all ended up okay?" Rose adds in a questioning tone.

I nod.

"See? All's well that ends well."

I nod again. What else can I do?

"So, at that point, I assume we went to the hospital?" I ask.

"Not at first," Rose states. "You were adamant that your hand was okay, but when it started to swell up, we finally convinced you to go. We all piled into a bunch of cabs and went with you. Luckily, Alice's brother was there, and he got you in to see a doctor quick."

"Edward." It's a statement.

"Yeah," she confirms. "I don't exactly know where he came from, but he was there with you when we finally found you in the waiting room. He was the one who had to kick Alice out."

"What?" Alice squawks. "He kicked me out?"

Another devious smile sprouts on Rose's lips. "Oh yeah. It was classic. He had to drag you from the exam room, where apparently a 'Dr. McCreamy' was tending to Bella. Now, this is all second hand, but what I gathered is that after you asked the good doctor to join you in a 'more private exam room' because you had 'something you wanted him to look at', Edward escorted you from the room and sent you home. You refused to go, claiming that your 'destiny' was waiting for you in that exam room."

Alice is staring open-mouthed. "_No_…" she whispers.

"_Yes_," Rose declares gleefully. "Emmett had to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out."

"Oh, my God," Alice practically sobs.

"So, we all went back to your apartment to wait for Bella," Rose continues. "I guess that some of the guys stopped along the way, picked up some beer to make the wait more bearable."

She indicates the beer bottles that are still piled on the kitchen counter.

"Looks that way," I confirm.

"And speaking of the beer bottles," Alice recovers, somewhat, and takes this opportunity to change the subject. "We really should clean them up."

We walk to the kitchen, where I grab a trash bag from under the sink, and we all begin clearing the mess from the countertops. Surprisingly, it doesn't take as long as I anticipated. A few moments later, I wipe the cleared counters down with disinfectant, and then join the other two in the den, where they are restoring the furniture to its proper locale.

"Rose?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"How did I get home? Did you see who brought me?"

Rose shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Bella, I really don't know. Around three-thirty, you called Alice and told her you were on your way home. Then everyone started crashing. Emmett wanted to go, so we left. Most people left at the same time."

The apartment is now clean. I offer Rose a soda, but she declines, saying that she needs to be on her way because she and Emmett have a date in an hour. So instead, I escort her to the door, where she bids us goodnight. As soon as she's gone, Alice and I plop down on the couch to catch our breath.

"What a day," I lament.

"Yeah," Alice agrees.

With a sigh, I slump back against the couch. My head lolls to the side so that I can look lazily at her. "Is it over yet?"

"God, I hope so," she states. "I think we've figured it all out, haven't we? Where we went, what we did?"

"Mostly."

There are just a few things left that we don't know. Such as _who_ I did….

"Alice?"

"Hmm," she hums sleepily.

"There's something else. Something I didn't tell you earlier."

"Hmm…."

"Someone spent the night."

"So? There were probably a lot of people passed out here last night."

"No. I mean someone spent the night _with me _last night," I repeat.

"What?" She perks up a bit and turns to look at me. "Really?"

Just as I expected, she looks excited by this prospect. With an exasperated sigh, I just nod.

"Who?" she asks eagerly.

"That's the kicker. Just like everything else from last night, I have no fucking clue. Whoever it was was long gone by the time I got up, but I know that someone else—someone of the opposite sex—slept in my bed last night."

"So? Someone crashed in your room. That doesn't mean anything."

Looking down at my hands, which are clasped tightly in my lap, I sigh.

"The condoms were out."

"Oh, my God."

"I know, right. So…" Pausing slightly, I squeeze my eyes shut. "I think I might've had sex last night."

I sigh again, because I know where this conversation is about to head: somewhere I definitely don't want it to go. Besides, I can't really answer questions about a sexual encounter I don't remember, right?

Luckily, the interrogation is interrupted when Alice's phone rings. She answers with a frustrated huff.

"Hey, Edward."

My heart jumps into my throat at the mention of his name, and I can't help but listen to her disjointed side of the conversation.

"Yeah, we're home."

"No harm done, at least not that we can tell."

"Bella? Yeah, she's fine, too."

She scowls at the phone. "Well, if you wanted to talk to Bella, Edward, you should've called her, not me!"

"What?"

A sheepish frown displaces the scowl. "Oh."

"Sorry," she mutters.

"Yeah, sure…"

She turns to me and holds out the phone, much like she did this morning.

"It's for you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Dun, Dun, Dun… I know that a lot of you have been hankering for more Edward, so here you go! Well, kind of. LOL. We'll hear more from the good doctor next installation, I promise. I just hope Bella's ready to hear what he has to tell her. Eep!

Wow! A lot of you really hated Eclipse Jake, huh? Glad to know I'm not in the minority. HeeHee.

Tomorrow will be a crazy day for me at work, so figured you guys would rather have an early update today than have to wait 2 days for the next one. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will post on Tuesday.

Thank you so much for reading!

KL


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****6:10 p.m.**

I reach out to take the phone from Alice. Just like when Edward called earlier today, my heart, which has been residing in my throat since I heard Alice say his name, attempts to choke me. My mouth is suddenly bone dry, and my tongue feels heavy and lethargic. I really wish I had a glass of water—I'd take a sip to help soothe the parched desert that my mouth now resembles—but I don't. So with a nervous swallow, I answer.

"H-hello?"

I'm mortified by the way my voice cracks.

"Hey, Bella," he says.

As soon as I hear his silky, smooth voice, my heart stops momentarily, then starts galloping madly in my chest like a herd of wild horses. If I wasn't before, I now find myself pretty much speechless. I can barely choke out the next word.

"Hey."

I squeeze my eyes shut at the absolute lameness of that response.

_Smooth, Bella. That was real smooth._

Following my not-so suave double greeting, there's that split-second awkward pause that sometimes happens when people talk on the phone for the first time. Well, it's not really our first time, seeing as he called earlier today, but it might as well be. It doesn't help that I really don't know _why_ he's calling me, although if I'm honest, I'll confess that I'm delighted just because he _is_ calling. Either way, I don't really know what to say, so the silence drags out a heartbeat longer than is entirely comfortable.

I clear my throat nervously and he chuckles. The sound is edgy, a bit awkward, as if it's scratching down an overly-dry throat. I have to admit that I find it just a tiny bit sexy.

"So…" He finally breaks the silence. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," I reply. "All the fuzziness is gone, and from the info we've gathered, I think we've figured out most of what happened last night, although there are still a few gaps."

"You guys still don't remember anything?" Edward asks.

"'Fraid not." I huff. "It's really frustrating; everything's an absolute blank."

"Hmmm."

Suddenly, inspiration strikes. I missed my opportunity to ask him for details from last night earlier, but I won't make that mistake twice.

"Hey, Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Rose mentioned that you were at the hospital last night. Do you, um, happen to know how I got home?"

He chuckles again, although this time it's not nervous or awkward. At all. And this time, it's not just a little bit sexy, it's a downright sinful-sounding rumble that reverberates in my head. A hot rush of awareness floods through my entire body, pooling low in my stomach and causing the muscles there to clench slightly in response.

"Sure do, Bella," he replies. I can hear the smile in his voice.

After a moment of silence, I roll my eyes, even though I know he can't see it.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, and you know it," I accuse.

He laughs again, the sound causing an even more intense reaction this time around. I pull the phone away from my ear in order to give it a good scowl and flick it the bird. He's still laughing when I bring it back to my ear.

"I know, I know," he finally concedes.

But he still doesn't answer the question.

"Well?" I prod impatiently.

"Patience, patience."

I'm starting to get irritated by how much fun he's having with this loss of memory thing.

"Fuck patience, Edward. This has been one hell of a day, and I'd just like a straight answer. Will you just tell me how the hell I got home?"

"_I_ took you home," he states matter-of-factly.

_What?_

"What? Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Why? Or should I ask, how? Weren't you working?"

"No."

Now, I'm confused. Hell, I'm beyond confused. Just when I think I'm getting a handle on everything that happened last night, I learn something that changes my perception.

"Okay…"

Edward sighs. When he speaks again, all traces of humor are gone. "I figured it was only fitting that I drive you home since I was the one who drove you there."

"What? You drove me to the hospital? I thought we took a cab."

"You were going to, with Alice, but I convinced you to ride with me instead."

"How did you to that? Wait…" The wheels start to turn in my head, and I think it's all finally starting to add up. "Were you at Trinity last night?"

There's a pause, then a small huff. "Yeah." His voice is wary.

"But you weren't in any of the pictures," I blurt.

"I would hope not!" The smile is back, I can hear it. "I know better than that. I don't want _my_ ass plastered all over the internet."

"Well, in my defense, I _had_ been drugged."

"I know that now, but at the time, I was just trying to make sure you and Alice were okay."

"So… What? You were _spying_ on us?" My voice is just a little bit screechy, and I cringe in response.

He sighs. "Not spying, per-se. Just keeping an eye on you."

"That sounds like spying to me," I grumble as I roll my eyes again.

Another awkward silence descends. It hangs heavily for a second too long. His voice is a bit stilted when he finally answers.

"I was just looking out for you guys," he repeats defensively. Another huff. "And it wasn't my plan to go to Trinity, but—"

"Wait," I interrupt him. "Are you saying that you _followed_ us there?"

I'm met by more silence.

_Oh, my God. I think he _did_ follow us there_.

"Edward?" My voice is a low growl, and it demands an answer. Yes, I'm giving him a hard time, but he deserves it; his behavior is starting to seem more than just a bit stalkeresque. But at the same time, my heart feels like it's being hugged really tightly inside my chest at the possibility.

And the potential implications.

"Yes," he finally whispers.

"When did you decide we needed following?"

The over-exuberant huffing coming from the other end of the phone is becoming a conversation all in its own.

"New Moon," he finally admits. "I was there having a drink with a few people from work. Actually, I was on my way out when you guys stumbled in. And I mean that literally; neither of you was very stable on your feet. After Alice tripped on the stairs leading to the bar, and you fell off the barstool—for no obvious reason, I might add—I decided that someone needed to watch out for you guys. Make sure you didn't get into any real trouble."

I'm equal parts deeply angry and surprisingly touched by this fact. However, I don't want him to know of the latter, so I latch onto the ire.

"A lot of good that did. I still ended up with broken hand."

Edward groans softly. "I know."

He sounds so contrite, so guilty, that I jump in to comfort him before I even realize what I'm doing.

"It's not your fault, Edward," I say softly.

He groans again, a bit louder this time. "That's where you're wrong, Bella."

"What? I'm the one who dirty danced with all my friends—and a few inanimate objects—last night. How the hell could that be your fault?"

"Yeah, you danced. But it was _because_ of me."

"Huh?"

Another huff precedes his words.

"You saw me at the club, Bella, even though I was trying to remain out of your line of sight. A few minutes after I arrived, you surprised me—really surprised me—when you came up, hugged me, and started talking as if we were old friends. You even tried to get me to dance. I didn't want to for many reasons, but mainly because I don't dance. And by that I mean I can't dance. Despite my love of music, I have no rhythm."

He's rambling, like really badly, and I have to smile. Then he remembers what he's supposed to be talking about and continues.

"Anyway, I said "no" and you got mad. Said that if you couldn't dance _with_ me, you'd dance _for_ me. Show me what I was missing."

This time the silence is on my end. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a few deep, calming breaths.

_Fuck. Me._

"Bella?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

I'm also still trying to wrap my head around all that he's revealed. That's so _not_ something I'd normally say. I like to keep my secret crushes just that: a secret. And I'm never that forward. But, hell, I've seen the pictures, so I'm well aware of the show that I put on last night. I just didn't realize it was for _him_. My only hope is that he didn't take it too seriously, that in retrospect he thinks that it was just the drugs talking, not my innermost desires...

"Did I really say that?" I ask sheepishly.

He chuckles again.

"Yup."

My eyes are still shut, and at this point, I wish I could just fall through the floor and disappear. I'm also really glad that this conversation is being held via the phone, and that Edward can't see me right now—my face must be as red as a tomato. I raise my free hand to my face and clunk myself for the umpteenth time today.

I groan. Great. Now I'm mortified and maimed even more.

"Say what?" Alice asks.

_Oops_. I've been so focused on my conversation with Edward that I've forgotten she was even here. My brow furrows in consternation, and I suddenly realize that this is a conversation I do _not_ want to be having in front of my roommate—who just happens to be Edward's sister. Shooting her an irritated glare, I stand up and high-tail it back towards my bedroom. Alice's voice trails behind me.

"Aw, c'mon, Bella. You heard all about _my_ humiliating encounter. You owe me this!"

I roll my eyes and keep walking. When she realizes that I'm not going to stop and talk to her, she launches herself off the couch and charges down the hall in pursuit.

"It's my phone, Bella!" she squawks.

_Whatever_.

After shutting the door on Alice's protest—and in her face—I take deep breath, cross the room, and flop down on the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Edward."

I don't know what else to say.

"Bella…"

"_No_! I am," I assert.

"Why? I enjoyed the show. It was, after all, for my benefit." He laughs softly when I groan. Then he continues. "I'm just sorry that it ended the way it did, that you had to punch that guy because he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So see? It really _was_ my fault."

I still don't agree with him, but I don't want to argue anymore either.

"Well, what's done is done, and blame doesn't matter at this point. I'm just glad it's over and we've figured it all out. Well, everything up to the hospital, at least. I still need to know what happened afterward."

I let my sentence trail off, hoping to induce an answer. It takes a moment of hanging silence for him to realize that it was a question.

"Well, I brought you home and kicked out the last few people who were still there."

Not exactly the answer I was looking for. I wait for a moment, but he doesn't offer any further explanation. So, I prod a bit.

"That's it?"

"Pretty much. Oh, I did try to pick up a bit."

I _know_ that's not it. Someone spent the night in my room—_in_ _my bed—_last night, and I'm beginning to think it might have been Edward. I'm also starting to wonder if he's just fucking with me for kicks.

"So, nothing else happened after you everyone left?" I ask.

I'm expecting another laugh or joking comment, but instead, another huff—and another slightly awkward silence—follows. Okay, maybe he's not screwing with me. But if not, what the hell happened?

"Edward…" I whine.

His voice is soft, hesitant, when he finally responds.

"Trust me, Bella. That's all you really need to know."

Despite his warning, I doggedly push forward.

"Edward?"

"Yes?" His voice is wary.

"Did you spend the night last night?"

A slight pause, then, "Yes."

"Did we, um… well… you know."

I get no answer other than another frustrated huff.

"_Edward_…" My voice is a low growl.

"Can you just let this one go?" he asks. His voice sounds a bit desperate. "It might be for the best."

_Uh uh. I don't think so._

"I need to know, Edward. What did I—er, we—do?"

There's a pause, which causes _me_ to huff. I'm getting really tired of these moments of silence; they usually indicate that one of us will not like the answer. His next words suggest that this time, it'll be me.

"Are you sure? I mean really sure, Bella? Remember, what's learned cannot be unlearned."

Shit. This doesn't sound good. But, yeah. I need to know.

"Tell me." I whisper.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, the evening is finally coming unraveled. Poor HungoverBella... At this point, can it possibly get any worse for her? Just wait till you hear what else Edward has to tell her. HeeHee

Thank you so much for all your support! I'm glad that you guys are having as much fun reading about Bella and Alice's antics as I did writing about them.

Work is crazy right now, so next update will come Thursday.

Thanks again!

:)

KL


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****6:34 p.m.**

Before Edward can respond, the doorbell rings. I ignore it, anticipating that Alice will answer.

"Aren't you going to get that?" he asks.

"What?"

"The door?"

_How does he know about that?_

"Alice will get it," I answer distractedly.

"Bella, answer the door."

"Why?"

Frustration oozes from his voice. "Will you trust me? Please. Just this once?"

"Fine," I snap.

I storm to the door and yank it open, only to be confronted with the object of my ire. A slight smile quirks the corners of his lips when he takes in my confusion and frustration. Grass-green eyes pin me in place as he quickly checks me out. I assume he's performing a brief visual exam just to make sure I really am okay, but his gaze lingers in a few personal places for an amount of time that's definitely not professional. Although I've secretly longed for his attention, for some reason now that I have it, I find that it irritates the shit out of me.

"Like what you see?" I ask waspishly, still talking into the phone.

His smile widens, and in response, my cheeks flame with heated color. He reaches out to pluck the phone from my fingers and hits the 'end' button.

"I think we can do without this, now."

Walking into our apartment as if he owns it, he tosses Alice's phone on the coffee table.

"I think I'd prefer that to this," I mutter under my breath. Then, louder, "And please, come in."

He laughs. The sound simultaneously grates on my last nerve and touches a place deep inside that I'd forgotten even existed. I shiver in response, then cross my arms over my chest in a defensive gesture meant to hide my now-hardening nipples. Damn my traitorous body.

"What are you doing here, Edward?" I ask warily.

"I told you I'd check in on you."

"You were doing that just fine by phone."

He shakes his head. "It's not the same."

I roll my eyes. Semantics. And now he's the one spouting them?

"Besides, I think this conversation is one best continued in person," he adds. "And in private."

He tips his chin in the direction of my bedroom. My stomach drops, and suddenly I feel as if I'm being dangled over a bottomless chasm. Here it is—the moment of truth. With a resigned sigh, I nod in agreement. I have a feeling this is a conversation that I really don't want Alice to 'accidentally' overhear.

As soon as the door is close, I turn to him. "Okay. Spill it."

"What?"

"Your deepest, darkest secrets!" I snap. Then I roll my eyes. "You _know_ what. No more dragging it out. Just tell me what happened last night, Edward."

"You're sure?" he asks one more time.

My eyes narrow in irritation, and I growl just a little, deep in my throat. Seriously? This again? If I have to answer that damned question one more time, I think I'll fucking scream.

He must register my annoyance, because he raises his hands as if in apology and nods slightly.

"Fine. Your call. But, you might want to sit," he suggests.

I don't think I like what this implies, and I want to oppose him, even if it's just on principle. However, I have a feeling—a _bad_ feeling—that it's probably a good idea. So, I reluctantly walk over to the bed and comply with his request.

"Where to start," he muses as he starts pacing.

"How about after everyone left last night," I suggest sarcastically.

"Okay." He pauses in his pacing and pushes a hand into his hair. "Well, Alice was passed out on the couch, so I put her to bed. Then I helped you get to your bedroom, but you…" His eyes meet mine, and he cocks his head to the side as if in contemplation. The corner of his mouth twitches. "Well, let's just say that you wanted to get into bed, but you definitely weren't in the mood to sleep."

He raises an eyebrow at me in a suggestive manner. My stomach drops. _Uh oh._ His eyes take on a devilish glint.

"No. Suddenly, despite the fact that you could barely keep your eyes open in the car on the way home, you weren't tired at all. You asked me to sit on the bed with you, but then… Hell, Bella, you started dancing again. For me. 'A private show' you called it."

I groan and squeeze my eyes shut.

"So, you 'danced', and I can only assume it was supposed to be a strip-tease since you did attempt to disrobe in the process. Then you offered me a lap dance. When I declined—respectfully, I might add—you reached into the drawer, pulled out the condoms and demanded that _I_ perform for _you_ instead."

My jaw drops and the blood drains from my face. Turning away, I groan in agony.

"Oh. My. God."

"Bella…"

"You were right, Edward. I've heard more than enough. Please, just go away and let me die in peace."

His laughter washes over me like cool water in a bubbling brook on a hot day. The cheerful sound is a complete contrast to the utter mortification that I'm experiencing. My cheeks go from cold to hot in about half a second. In fact, they're scalding, and I fear that my face might just melt off. Wait... That actually might not be a bad thing at this point; if I'm dead, he can't make me feel any worse. Or make fun of me anymore.

"It's not funny," I grumble, flopping to my back and covering my face with my good arm. "This is the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life. I can't believe I said that, or did that, and that you had to—"

He cuts me off. "I'm fucking with you, Bella."

_What?_

I sit up.

"What?"

"That's not _exactly_ what happened," he admits sheepishly.

For a moment, I'm frozen in place. Then I explode into motion, springing from the bed, whirling to face him, and jabbing my finger in his direction.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Tell me that—let me believe _that_—if it wasn't the truth?"

The smile fades and he sighs. His eyes are soft, pleading, asking for forgiveness, and his fingers are twisting in his lap in obvious distress. He looks so remorseful that I want to give in. Instead, I force myself to cross my arms over my chest and scowl determinedly at him.

"Why?" I repeat.

Looking away, he responds, "I figured that if I told you the worst possible scenario, the truth might not be quite so bad?"

He shrugs, and I find that I'm not at all impressed with his logic.

"So what did happen?" I demand. "Was any part of that story the truth?"

God, I hope not.

Unfortunately, he nods.

"I did help get you to the bedroom. And you weren't in the mood to sleep. But by that time, you must have had a pretty potent combination of alcohol, amphetamines, and pain meds running through your system, because your balance was non-existent. You did somehow manage to get partially undressed, and you did suggest that we 'take it to the next level'." He pauses for a moment, and when his gaze drifts to the night stand, I can't help but remember that the condoms were out this morning. "But after that…"

All my righteous indignation flees. Unfortunately, the stuff that actually did happen might be worse than what didn't. I _did_ strip for Edward and ask him to sleep with me. What could be worse than that? I return to my place on the bed, where I don't have to look him in the eye anymore.

"Did we…" I can't finish my sentence, and instead circle my hand over the bed, indicating sexual behavior.

"No," he says softly.

Surprisingly, I can't quite tell if I'm relieved or disappointed by his response.

"No?"

I turn in his direction to find those all-knowing eyes trained on me. He smiles slightly and shakes his head.

"Then what?" My question is a hesitant whisper.

"Well, you tripped and fell, and…" He pauses. Something—concern, possibly?—flashes in his eyes, and a sad smile pulls at his lips before he continues. "Well, somehow, you managed to knock yourself out with your cast."

_I knocked myself out? With my cast, no less?_

A headache begins to throb behind my temples while I gape at Edward. Unfortunately, the look on his face lets me know that this horror story isn't done yet. He huffs again, and his voice is pained, barely a whisper, when he continues.

"When you finally came around, you threw up on yourself."

I groan again. His earlier theory was most definitely wrong. This might actually be worse that his 'worst-case scenario'.

"So, I helped you shower and change clothes."

At least that explains why my underwear was in the bathtub, and why I was wearing my old gym shorts this morning.

"I finally got you into bed, but you didn't want me to leave—by that point, I wouldn't have left anyway—so I stayed. It was only for an hour or so, because my shift started at six this morning. You finally fell asleep right before I left."

I can't even look at him at this point. My face is flaming, and any warm fuzzy feelings that I'd experienced earlier have long since turned to lead in my stomach. All I can do is shake my head and groan.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

He chuckles. "Trust me, Bella. There are worse things than having a beautiful girl throw herself at you. It wasn't all bad."

"How can you say that?" I whine. "I provoked you, flirted with you, tried to convince you to sleep with me when you clearly were just being nice, threw up on you, and kept you up all night before a long day at work. How can it not be bad?"

Something warm and soft brushes gently against my hand. Opening my eyes, my gaze lands on his fingers, which are entwining themselves with mine. I raise my head to find him watching me, and I take a moment to really look at him. His clothes are rumpled, his hair is a mess, and his face is paler than it usually is. There are also deep purple bruises under his obviously-exhausted eyes. Yet, there's something there, hidden in the depths of those grass-green irises, that causes my breath to halt. I can't look away.

"It _wasn't_ all bad," he asserts gently. Then he sighs. "But I don't know what to take at face value, and what the drugs caused you to do or say. I don't know what's _real_."

"Huh?"

His eyes drop from my face to our hands.

"You told me some things last night, Bella, right before you fell asleep. Things I want to believe…"

His fingers squeeze gently before his eyes lift up and spear mine once again. This time, more than my breath halts. All of time seems to stop. My heart struggles to pump my thick, heavy blood through my body, and I can hear the "whoosh, whoosh" of my pulse pounding as if in slow motion as it rushes through my head.

I speak. And by that, I mean that I open my mouth, and I hear words come out. But it doesn't sound like me. At all. The voice is low and scratchy, and just a tiny bit terrified.

"What things?"

I struggle to hear his answer, it's so softly spoken.

"You mentioned a secret crush, and you told me you loved me."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

We were both wrong earlier.

So. Fucking. Wrong.

_This _is the worst-case scenario.

I can't contain the miserable little moan that bubbles up from deep inside of me. The truth is out, and I don't even remember admitting it. A combination of alcohol and drugs somehow caused me to voice my deepest, darkest desire. To the object of said desire no less.

"Bella?"

I groan again.

He releases my hand and uses his now-free fingers to tilt my chin. I reluctantly raise my eyes to his. For a moment, we just stare at one another. I can't hide how I feel, not when I'm being questioned directly, and I know he registers everything, because his eyes darken as they take in my silent answer. After a moment, it's too much, too intense, too painful. I allow my eyelids to drift shut, curtaining my tattered soul from him.

"_Bella_…"

His cool breath washes across my lips an instant before it's replaced by something much more solid. Something warm, firm and insistent. It takes me a moment to realize that his mouth is pressed against mine, but when I do, I can't hold back the tidal wave of elation that rushes through my entire being. Or the small whimper of surrender. With a groan of his own, Edward takes that sound, drinks it in, and demands more. It's messy and desperate and… perfect. Noses bump, lips nip, tongues clash. Edward tastes better than I ever imagined, and the way that his hand moves to gently cup my face makes me feel cherished in a way I never have before.

In less than one minute, I know that I'll never be satisfied—this kiss will never be enough. I want more. I need more. I need… _him_. All of him.

Anything less will never do.

Startled by the intensity my realization, I pull back slightly. The kiss slows, softens, and eventually stops. I drop my head against his chest. Much like mine, his heart is racing and his breathing is fast and heavy. When his hand slips from my cheek to rest on my waist, his fingers curl and flex against me.

"Bella," he whispers once again, and I swear I feel his lips brush against the top of my head.

Warmth bubbles up from deep within me at the way my name sounds on his tongue, the almost-reverent way in which he utters it. He sounds as surprised as I am. I want to say something, _anything_, but right now, I'm just speechless. So I bury my way even further into his chest and shake my head slightly. He seems to get the message, because he hums slightly and tightens his grip, just holding me while I regain control.

"You okay?" he finally inquires.

I nod.

"You sure?" he asks for what feels like the hundredth time today.

This time though, the question makes me smile.

"Yeah. You?"

"I think so…"

He sounds confused, or awed, or, well… _something_, so I pull back to look at him. We stare for a moment, then my gaze drops from his questioning eyes to his lips, which are still damp and red and slightly swollen from our recent kiss. My tongue darts out to lick my own lips in response, and I hear his breath catch. When I glance back up, his gaze is concentrated on my mouth. I smile in invitation.

Just as he's leaning in for a repeat performance, the doorbell rings, causing him to pull back with a groan. And a curse.

"Alice'll get it," I say distractedly, hoping that we can continue what we've started here.

"That's the problem," he mutters as he stands up.

"Huh?"

"C'mon," he says, taking a step back and grabbing my hand. With a slight tug, he pulls me off the bed. Leaving my room, we head toward the front of the apartment.

"Where're we going?"

"To get the door."

"Why?"

"Because it probably is for Alice, only she has no clue. I was so intent on talking to _you_ that I forgot to talk to _her_."

Now I'm really confused.

"What the hell are you talking about, Edward?"

We reach the door right as the bell rings again. Edward opens it, revealing a tall, handsome man with shaggy blond hair and deep gray eyes. Edward's eyes narrow slightly, and a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. Then he sighs.

"You came?" he asks resignedly.

A cocky smirk emerges on the newcomer's face.

"Obviously," he drawls. "You can't keep me away, Cullen. The invite didn't come from _you_."

While he and Edward participate in some sort of silent pissing contest, I covertly stare for a moment. For some reason, I feel that I should recognize him, but I just don't. I'm torn from my musings when Edward finally addresses me.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure," I answer bemusedly.

At this point, I feel like I'm living in some alternate universe. So much weird shit has happened today, and obviously we've still got some surprises in store. The tone of Edward's voice alerts me to the fact that he isn't overly thrilled with this turn of events, but the resignation I detect there also suggests that he's not going to do anything to stop whatever it is that's about to happen.

"Will you please go and tell Alice that her _date_ is here?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** You guys were split pretty much evenly between 'they did' and 'they didn't' camps. I hope this lived up to everyone's (s)expectations. Edward, as I have come to know him, would definitely not be one to take advantage of Bella in a compromising situation, so I wanted to stay true to that canon characteristic. But this Edward _is_ a bit of a joker, and he did want to give her a bit of a hard time. Speaking of which… have any of you had someone purposely tell you a fabricated story just so the truth wouldn't seem quite so bad afterwards?

FYI: Inspiration for Bella's… mishap… was actually based on a previous drunken experience of mine. No, it wasn't me that was drunk, but the guy that I'd been crushing on for almost 3 years at the time (the guy from my college past that I have referred to as my own personal Edward: bronze hair, golden-hazel eyes, a swimmer's lean physique). We had a bunch of people over one night and he got trashed, then proceeded to throw up in my bedroom, where I had encouraged him to go lay down. Did it make me like him any less? Surprisingly, not. And since Edward is a doctor, I'm sure that he's seen far worse at the hospital. Not to mention, helping Bella shower would just be an added bonus.

Tomorrow will be another busy day for me at work, and we're going out to dinner afterwards to celebrate my last week in the lab. As such, chapter 10 (final regular chapter) will post on Saturday. See you then!

Thanks for reading.

KL


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my betas, **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153**.

**A/N:** Ok guys, here it is, the last regular chapter!

This story has been so much fun to write and share, and all of your drunken stories have made it even more enjoyable for me. Thank you so much for all your support!

Without further ado…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 7, 2011<br>****8:25 p.m.**

It's been an interesting evening to say the least.

Before I could get to Alice's room earlier to tell her that her 'date' had arrived, her head popped out of the door to see what the commotion was all about. She was wearing a towel, turban-style, on her head and had another one wrapped around her body, suggesting that she'd been in the shower when the doorbell initially rang. She squeaked slightly when she saw Edward standing in the doorway. Reaching out, she grabbed my hand and yanked me into her room.

"What the hell is Edward doing here?" she hissed.

Warm color flooded my cheeks, causing Alice's eyes to narrow speculatively.

"Um… Well…"

"Was he able to fill in any of the remaining gaps about last night?"

At the mention of the previous evening, my blush deepened. Once again, my cheeks felt as if they were about to melt. And once again, I pondered the fact that this might not be a bad thing. When I didn't answer, but instead just stood there looking guilty as sin, Alice's squint turned into wide-eyed surprise. Her mouth dropped open as she finally did the mental math and put it all together.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Was _Edward_ the one who spent the night with you?"

I just nodded. Unable to face her—and the laundry list of questions I knew she was dying to ask—I looked away.

"Did you guys—"

"No!" I interrupted emphatically. But I couldn't stop the damning flush from spreading to my chest, and I refused to meet her eyes.

"But _something_ happened…"

I didn't answer. To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure what to say. Although I'd had a crush on Edward for years, it wasn't something that Alice was completely aware of; while I'd commented—multiple times, no less—on how attractive I thought he was, I'd conveniently failed to mention the true depth of my interest in her brother. So, what could I do now? Just blurt it out? Admit that I'd made out with him?

So I just shrugged.

At my silent non-answer, she marched to the door and yanked it open, as if she was ready to confront Edward directly and get the answers from him. But as soon as she noticed his companion, she stopped short. As they turned to look at her, Alice squeaked once more and slammed the door shut.

"Who the hell is here with him?"

Her question reminded me of why I came back here in the first place. I jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

"Um… Your date?"

"My _what_?" she screeched.

"Date," I repeated, more confidently this time. Remembering the snippet of conversation I'd just overheard, I added, "Apparently, you invited him over?"

Luckily, this answer had the intended effect of distracting her from any questions concerning my evening with Edward. Quietly this time, she eased the door open just a bit and peeked out. The low murmur of male voices reached our ears. After a moment, she shut the door.

"Oh. My. God. That has got to be the best looking guy I've ever seen. The things I'd like to do to him. Jesus, he'd make me cream my panties—if I was wearing any—just from looking at him." She turned to me. "But who the hell is he?"

I shrugged. I really didn't know.

"I haven't agreed to a date anytime recently, especially from someone I don't know. Who the hell... Wait…" Her eyes glazed over as she thought. "_No_!" she finally gasped. Then she collapsed onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This isn't happening. _Not_ happening."

"What's going on, Alice?" I asked.

She looked up at me from between her fingers.

"Do you think that's your doctor from last night?"

All of a sudden, Rose's nickname from earlier—Dr. McCreamy—popped to mind. I snorted. It was as good a guess as any, and in fact, was the only one that really made any sense. Especially seeing what Alice had just said about him.

"I'll go find out," I told her.

It was, indeed, Dr. Whitlock, although he insisted that I call him Jasper when Edward made the formal introductions. And despite Alice's outrageous behavior the previous evening—or maybe because of it, he admitted sheepishly—he'd shown up here tonight.

I guess she's just his kind of crazy.

It takes all types…

We're now seated at a table at a local bistro, having a drink and eating a meal as if this was just a normal evening and things like this happened all the time. I have to shake my head at the incongruity of it all. Then again, with all the weird shit that's gone down in the past twenty four hours, is this really so _ab_normal? We're essentially on a double date, two sets friends going out for the first time.

Stuff like this actually _does_ happen all the time.

I turn to Alice in order to smile, but she's lost in Jasper's steely gaze. I've never seen her like this with any guy before. The funny thing is, he looks just as taken with her. It makes me smile.

Shifting my gaze, I find Edward staring at me. The look in his eye is mysterious, intriguing, and I find that I can't look away. I know that we still have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but a strange sense of contentedness—of absolute rightness—seeps into my chest, and I can't keep my grin from widening. The corner of his mouth twitches upward, a crooked smile appearing on his lips, and I know he feels it, too.

All in all, dinner is a big success. Unfortunately, we're all exhausted from the events of the previous night, so we decide to call it an early evening and head back to our apartment, where we sit on the couch, watching bad weekend TV and talking. Mostly about the events of the previous evening. Conversation flows easily between the four of us. We all laugh about Jasper's mind-blowing first encounter with Alice, and Alice groans when she learns that she actually offered to do some blowing of an entirely different nature. Edward also shares his fabricated story of my 'private dance'. Alice gets a kick out of that one.

Bitch.

As the evening wears on, I find it harder to concentrate, and despite my best efforts to fight it, my eyelids eventually droop. When I start yawning, Edward stands and turns to Jasper, indicating that he should do the same.

"I think it's time to let the girls get some rest. It's been a long day." His smirk, however, lets me know that I'm not off the hook yet. "But… We should definitely do this again sometime."

Jasper nods in agreement, causing Alice to smile widely.

"So, how about it, Bella?" Edward asks. "Next Friday night? You ready to do it all again?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and his eyes glint devilishly. Then he faux-whispers, "I promise that if you offer a private show, I won't turn you down again."

I groan while everyone else laughs. Another heated flush tinges my cheeks.

"Well, maybe…" I hedge. "But there are a few things I'd like to change. For one, I'd really like to remember it the next time you spend the night."

His eyebrows rise. "Is that an invitation?"

I groan again.

"No! Wait... Yes. No?" I huff in frustration then send a small, shy smile in his direction. "Well, not yet, but maybe someday…"

My voice trails off as the look on his face causes the words to stick in my throat. Edward's grin stretches from ear to ear at this point.

"So, it's a date?"

"Yeah, Edward," I agree. "It's a date."

I can tell that I have a goofy grin on my face as well; my cheeks feel as if they're about to split from the effort. Alice's gaze darts warily between me and Edward before she sighs dramatically and flops back against the couch.

"Ugh. This is gonna be weird," she states.

"Huh?"

"You," she points at me then waves her hand in Edward's direction. "Dating my brother."

"Why is that weird?" I ask.

"We talk about boys and sex, Bella. That's what girls do." She frowns. "But now we won't really be able to do that anymore, not if you're going to be sleeping with my brother." She wrinkles her nose. "There are some details that I really _don't_ want to know about. _That_ is definitely one of them."

My heart clenches in my chest at her implications. Edward and I haven't talked about that stuff yet. Hell… I have no clue if we're even officially dating. We only shared our first kiss a few hours ago. That said, if the past twenty-four hours are anything to go by, I'd like to think it's inevitable now—the connection I feel with him is stronger than anything I've previously experienced. Turning to look at him, I find a similarly disconcerted expression on his face as he stares at his sister. It makes me laugh.

Alice is still lost in thoughtful contemplation.

"Although, I guess I've realized this weekend that you don't tell me nearly as much as I tell you," she muses. "Hell, that's probably a good thing."

I just nod.

We walk the guys out, each to their own car, and say our private goodbyes. I have no clue what Alice says or does with Jasper because I'm too caught up in my moment with Edward. As soon as his lips brush mine, I can think of nothing except the way my body seems to come to life in response to his touch. My breath is nothing but shallow gasps, my heart is racing wildly, and delicious warmth has bloomed low in my abdomen. Soft silk slides between my fingers when they finally wend their way into his hair in order to pull his face closer. But I can't get close enough.

Somehow I doubt I ever will.

Eventually we pull apart, taking a moment to catch our breath.

"Will I see you before Friday?" I ask as I lean into him for support.

"Probably not. I start an entire week of night shifts tomorrow."

I grunt in understanding. It's probably for the best, anyway; I'll need to start studying for exams next week, and the final paper for my creative writing class is due on Friday.

"But, if it's alright, can I call you?"

I look up to him with a smile. "Yeah. That's definitely alright."

He smiles back, then pulls out his phone and hands it to me so I can punch in my number. Once I've done that, he sighs softly and pulls me back into a hug that ends with yet another almost-desperate kiss.

He eventually gets into his car, and after a final kiss and a "see you on Friday", he turns the key in the ignition and reluctantly drives away. As I stand in the parking lot, watching this taillights twinkle off into the distance, I raise my fingers to my mouth and touch my still-kiss-swollen lips. It's hard to wrap my head around everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours; so many amazing things that have come from a set of really shitty circumstances. I smile thinking about all that was, and everything that is yet to come.

Turning around in order to head back inside, I only have one coherent thought.

Next Friday night can't come soon enough.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** What to say, what to say… At this point, I'm pretty much speechless! I'd really like to thank everyone involved in this story, from my betas to the girls I've WC'd with to all of you who've read and reviewed! This story wouldn't have been possible without each and every one of you!

As originally planned, this is the final chapter. However, now that I'm here, I really feel as if Bella has just a bit more to say (and reveal) about her new relationship with Edward. So, if you guys are willing to stick with me for just a little bit longer, I'd like to write one more chapter—an epilog—that will check back in on them after a bit of time has passed. No guarantees about when it'll post, but since I have some time off next week, I'd like to think that I can get it to betas and post in the next two weeks.

Thanks for your support!

KL


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N**: OK… I lied. ***sigh*** I didn't mean to though, I promise! I honestly envisioned the epilog to be one chapter containing a few flashbacks, just to give you a brief glimpse into Bella and Edward's new relationship. Once I started writing, however, it just took on a life of its own; both Bella and Edward turned quite a bit… chattier than I had planned. LOL. When all was said and done, I had another 10K words encompassing five full 'scenes', each just as long as the previous regular chapters. After conferring with the betas and a few readers, I decided that it would be better to post each scene as its own chapter, rather than one long mega-chapter, to keep with the 'feel' of the rest of the story. Therefore, I will be posting 1 chapter/day for the next five days. Story **will** be complete by the end of the week.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing and to **Legna989** for pre-reading the entire 'epilog' in one go. You guys are the best.

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday May 10, 2011<br>****9:45 p.m.**

Slamming my book shut and tossing my pen onto my desk with a frustrated grunt, I yank my earbuds out of my ears. Music definitely isn't helping. Unfortunately, it's my last-ditch effort; silence, then a random movie—just for background noise—already failed. I huff in frustration. My ability to concentrate has completely abandoned me. Okay… Let me rephrase: my ability to concentrate on studying for my exams is non-existent. My ability to concentrate on Edward, however, seems to be in fine working order.

Damn it to hell and back.

Giving up on my half-hearted-at-best attempt to study, I give into temptation and do what I've been dying to do for the past several hours—standing up from my desk, I wander to my bed and grab the pillow that _he_ had lain on the other night. I bring it to my face and inhale deeply. Closing my eyes, I savor the slightly spicy scent that still clings tenuously to the pillowcase. With eyes still closed, I hug the pillow tightly to my chest. It's a poor imitation, but for a moment I allow myself to pretend that it's him. Leaning in, I caress the cotton with pursed lips.

Suddenly realizing what I'm doing—and how crazy it would appear to anyone who might happen catch me—I toss the pillow to the bed with a disgusted snort and stomp out of my room. I head straight for the kitchen, where I grab the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. After pouring half a glass, I top it off with vodka from the new bottle we purchased to restock our bar. I down the drink in four quick gulps, then begin working on a refill. Raising my glass in a silent and sarcastic toast to the object of my distraction and frustration, I lift the glass to my lips and take a long drag.

"Drinking alone on a Tuesday night?" Alice asks sarcastically. "What the hell happened?"

Catching me off guard, I jump in response, spilling my drink in the process. I also must have inhaled in shock, because suddenly I'm choking on liquid that's going down the wrong pipe. And let me tell you, that shit burns. Horribly. Tears stream down my face as I clutch at my chest and hack away.

"Jesus, Alice," I finally manage to choke out between coughs.

She eyes me with raised eyebrows, obviously waiting for an answer.

"Nothing," I grumble.

"Nothing, what?"

"Nothing happened."

A confused frown displaces the condescending look on her face. "And?" she prompts.

"And… Nothing!" I shout.

Turning back around, I slam my glass on the counter and refill it once more.

"Don't get snippy with me, Bella," she gripes. "I was just curious why you're drinking all by yourself."

"Well, if you had been here, I wouldn't be alone!" I snap before I can control it. Then I sigh and quickly apologize. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I'm just… unfocused tonight."

"You've been unfocused all week."

_Damn it. She's right._

I drop my head, and the hand holding the glass. It clinks loudly as it connects with the counter, and I watch, fascinated, as a few drops of orange liquid slosh over the side, slide down the glass, and pool on the Formica countertop. I feel a bit like that spilled juice—sticky and acidic, out of place and spread way too thin. For the past three days, I've been alternating between flying high on the memories of Saturday night and scraping the bottom of the barrel with worry because he hasn't called me yet.

Did I misread the signals?

What if that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it does to me? I'd been secretly longing for Edward to notice me for more than three years, and for a moment last Saturday night, I thought that he had. But what if I've blown this entire situation up into something it's not? What if the event that was life-altering for me meant nothing to him?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Then I sigh heavily. Alice must understand all my anxious posturing, because her arms are suddenly around my waist in a tight, comforting hug.

"Why don't you just call him?" she asks.

"I can't."

"You can leave a message. He'll get it."

She completely misunderstands what I mean, and I huff in frustration.

"That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

I huff again, then take a step away and turn to face her. With fluttering hands, I explain, "I don't want to be _that_ girl."

Her brows pinch in question. "What girl?"

"The one who goes all cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over a guy!" I exclaim.

My hands are waving madly, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing a mighty fine impression of Sonny the Cuckoo Bird right now. Maybe if graduate school doesn't pan out, General Mills can hire me for their next ad campaign. Then again, it's possible that I just look like a deranged escapee from the loony bin.

Alice raises her eyebrows and snorts at my antics. I immediately drop my hands.

"Too late, huh?" I ask sheepishly.

She nods. "Sorry, sweets. You checked yourself into that particular psycho ward three days ago."

_Loony bin it is._

With another sigh, I pick up my glass and head to the den where I flop unceremoniously onto the couch. Alice follows, sitting down beside me and allowing her head to fall onto my shoulder.

"Why hasn't he called?" I ask.

My voice sounds small and unsure, which in turn makes _me_ feel small and unsure. Warm salt begins slipping down my cheeks, which only upsets me further and turns me even more into _that_ girl.

_Gah!_

Alice's arms slip around my waist once again.

"I don't know, sweetie, but Jasper mentioned that they've been slammed this week at the hospital. Maybe he's just been busy?"

I laugh humorlessly. Busy? Could it really be _that_ simple? Wiping the traitor tears from my eyes, I vow to not think the worst. Not to mention, be a better friend. I turn to Alice and try to sound excited and interested as I ask about her evening.

"So, how was your date?"

She sighs dreamily. "It was great! Jasper's great. Everything's just… " This time, Alice's hands fly around excitedly as she lpooks for the right word. "_Great_!"

I hug her gently, happy for my friend. But at the same time, her successful evening only reminds me of the fact that I haven't talked to Edward since Saturday night. Alice, on the other hand, has talked to Jasper each day for the past three days. They had also managed to get together tonight for dinner after his shift. My mind starts journeying down those treacherous trails again, and it takes me a moment to realize she's still babbling happily about her evening.

"…never felt so connected so quickly, know what I mean?"

I hum in agreement, even though I'm not really sure what she's talking about at this point.

"And damn… the things that boy can do with his tongue." Lifting her head, she looks at me with a goofy—and guilty—smile. Then she waggles her eyebrows. "I don't usually move this quick, but if his fingers are any indication, I'm more than ready to experience his full bedside manner."

My jaw drops at her disclosure. "Alice!" I remonstrate.

"What?" she asks, faux-innocently. "When the chemistry's there…"

She shrugs, and all I can do is laugh.

"So, what are you doing home? Why aren't you off…" I pause and wave my hand briefly, "_examining_ each other more thoroughly or something?"

Alice sighs. "He has an early shift tomorrow, and I have a paper due at 8:00 a.m. Unfortunately, I'm not done yet. Besides, I think we're gonna need an entire night to scratch that particular itch—while I'm ready to rush into it, there no reason to rush _it_, ya know? I definitely want to take my time with that one."

She nods her head, then sighs, obviously lost in thought about good things to come. After a moment dreamy silence, she turns to me expectantly. Luckily, I'm saved from any further discussions of my roommate's impending sexual revolution when my phone rings.

"Go get it, tiger," Alice encourages.

Jumping up from the couch, I hurry back to my room and grab my phone before it stops ringing. The number that flashes on the screen causes my heart to lurch to a stop in my chest. A smile breaks on my lips.

Edward.

"Hello," I answer.

"Hey, Bella."

His voice sounds tired—really tired—but my grin widens just hearing it in my ear. The sound of his voice soothes me in a way that I didn't even know I needed, and happiness bubbles up from deep within me.

"Hey."

I groan at my once-again not-so-suave double greeting, which seems to be becoming a bad habit, and he chuckles in response. That low reverberation tickles not only my ear, but my heart and my nether-regions as well. Heated awareness blooms deep in my chest and low in my stomach, causing my legs to tremble. Suddenly finding it hard to remain upright, I sink gratefully onto the bed.

"How are you, Bella?"

"Better, now that I'm talking to you," I blurt.

As soon as the words are out, I groan again. _Damn it. Did I really just say that?_ His answering chuckle assures me that yes, I did. Fuck.

Cool, Bella. Very cool.

_Not!_

I raise my free hand so I could bury my face in it, but I only manage to bop myself, yet again, with my cast. You'd think that after two weeks I'd learn.

Apparently not.

Luckily, Edward interrupts my self-induced pity party.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. It's been hell week here; I haven't been home since Sunday night—there was a terrible car accident early Monday morning, and a young child lost his entire family. I was the one who saw him as soon as he got here, and I've been with him ever since. I only have about five minutes to spare right now. But I couldn't wait any longer to talk to you," he states softly, yet fervently.

My embarrassment and anxiety completely fade with his words. And the ones that follow—turns out I'm not the only one who has been having trouble focusing on my work. By the time our five minutes (in actuality, he manages to stretch it to almost fifteen) are up, Edward has put all my neurotic fears to rest.

"I'll see you Friday night at seven," he says right before he hangs up.

An ecstatic smile tugs at my lips. "I can't wait," I whisper.

Not surprisingly, after his call, I have no problem finding my studying mojo.

I hope that he's having the same luck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**. I had "study movies" when I was in college/grad school—a handful of movies I'd seen so many times that I could put them on and not pay attention—including the original Star Wars trilogy, Eraser, Broken Arrow, Twister, Ever After, Mortal Kombat (ok… yes, I know that outside of Star Wars, most of those are BAD movies. LOL). I couldn't listen to the radio, b/c I found myself distracted, and I couldn't have silence, because, well… I just need noise. *shrugs* What do you guys do when you need to study/work/concentrate at home?

See you guys tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing and to **Legna989** for pre-reading.

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Friday May 13, 2011<br>****11:55 p.m.**

It's Friday night, I'm pleasantly tipsy, and I'm making out with Edward Cullen. Nothing can possibly ruin this evening.

That said, it _is_ Friday the 13th, even if there are only a few minutes left of it. And I am, after all, unlucky, as the cast on my arm—and the pictures on the internet—will attest.

Forcing the negative energy away, I focus on the task at hand: kissing Edward. I must admit, it's quite satisfying. Besides, up to this point, everything has been pretty damn perfect.

Earlier this evening, Edward took me to The Pink Door for dinner. It's a popular restaurant, but despite the fact that I've been living in Seattle for almost four years, I've never been there. The food was great. The conversation was even better, which kind of surprised me, to be honest. Although we'd spoken a few times on the phone over the past week, none of our conversations had lasted very long—Edward's work schedule, as well as my classes and studying, had prevented long discussions, so this was our first _real_ opportunity to talk. But I guess knowing _of_ each other, even though we didn't really know one another, helped to smooth over any potential awkwardness. Not to mention, we have something in common: Alice. It's amazing how quickly the ice was broken once we started talking about Edward's sister.

Unfortunately, Alice will probably kill me later when she learns that I told her brother about the time she flashed the Sig Eps—and by that, I mean _all_ the Sig Eps—at a frat party. Or about the time she convinced a guy who'd been hitting on her at a club and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer that she'd make out with him if he'd put on her panties first. He'd been drunk enough to agree. But instead of living up to her promise, she'd taken his clothes and run, leaving him stranded in the women's restroom clad only in her underwear. Trust me, despite the name, boy shorts really aren't made for men. It hadn't been pretty.

And speaking of Alice… We met up with her and Jasper for a drink a little after ten. I have to admit that I planned to re-create a bit of our previous Friday night, just so I'd remember it this time. Therefore, we went back to the place where it all started: New Moon. From there, we moved on to Trinity, just like the previous Friday evening. Much to my disappointment, however, Edward really hadn't been lying when he'd said he couldn't dance. The boy was an absolute disaster on the dance floor. His idea of dancing was nothing more than standing still and bobbing his head. When he did attempt to move, there was no connection to the music. At all. It was really pretty sorry.

I _love_ 'sex on the dance floor' type dancing—as evidenced by the pictures that have been plastered all over the internet for the past week—so his complete incompetence at bumping-and-grinding was a big let-down for me. I threw in the towel after about fifteen minutes; attempting to dance with Edward was like trying to move a marble statue all by myself. I could only hope that he wouldn't be as stiff in the bedroom as he was on the dance floor.

Then again…

Needless to say, Edward seemed quite relieved when I tugged him off the dance floor and told Alice we were heading out. At the time, I was bitterly disappointed that all of the borderline-illegal dance moves I planned to show him would be locked up without the possibility of parole, so I was simply in a hurry to get away from the scene of the non-crime. But once he got me home… Well, let's just say I quickly found out that while my dance moves might have been relegated to the pokey, the possibility of playing an entirely different kind of 'pokey' was looking pretty good. And in this particular situation, Edward's being stiff was definitely not a bad thing.

I'm now sitting on his lap, sucking on his tongue and grinding against his crotch. Thankfully, his awkward dance moves weren't a prelude of awkward bedroom moves—his hip thrusts have been perfectly in synch with my own, and the way his hands have been rubbing against my arms and back has induced all the right kinds of shivers in all the right kinds of places.

Unfortunately, we're not in the bedroom.

In fact, we haven't even made it out of the car; as soon as he parked, I pretty much jumped him. However, I obviously forgot to consider the logistics of making out in an automobile—it was, after all, several years since I'd been a horny teenager forced to hook up in a parked car in order to avoid getting busted by my parents. I grunt slightly when an over exuberant hip thrust causes my back to bump uncomfortably against steering wheel.

"There's not enough room in here, Edward," I mumble around his tongue as I grind my hips against his, desperately searching for the friction I need. "Why don't you come up?"

At my words, he pulls back to search my eyes. His hands, which had been holding me close and urging my hips to rock against his just seconds earlier, push me away slightly. The sense of loss is immediate and absolute. Where I had just been feeling warm and wanted, suddenly, I feel cold and detached. The unsatisfied tingle that throbs between my legs is demanding release, and I long for nothing less than to continue grinding myself against his obvious arousal. Instead, I groan in frustration at his hesitation and put more distance between our heated bodies.

"Shit. I shouldn't have said anything," I grumble as I slide from his lap and back onto my seat. I don't want to meet his eyes, so I take a moment to straighten my clothing then look down at my hands, which are twisting in my lap. "This is moving too quickly, isn't it?"

"_Quickly_? You think this is moving too quickly?" He barks out a short laugh and shoves a hand roughly into his hair, then shifts in his seat. "Jesus, Bella. I wouldn't call waiting three years for a few kisses and a dry-hump session quick."

My eyes snap from my lap to his face. "Huh? Three years? It's only been a week."

This time, he looks away. My eyes narrow and my brain begins churning, but I feel as if I'm missing something, somewhere. I just can't figure out what. Edward isn't helping—instead of answering me, he's clenching his jaw and looking out the window.

"What are you talking about, Edward?" I prod.

He huffs, and another tug of his hair follows. Then a sad sounding little sigh. I almost miss his words, they're spoken so quietly.

"You weren't the only one with a secret crush, Bella."

_Can I say it again? Huh?_

How can he have a crush on me? I'd only seen him a few times over the years—usually at Alice's parent's house—and we'd spoken a grand total of eight times over that three year period. Yeah, I've kept a mental tally of each and every one of those encounters, and I can recall with perfect clarity the contents of each of our conversations. They mostly consisted of simple greetings and painfully awkward questions about school and classes. In each case, I had stumbled over each of my words. I'd never thought that there was any way he would ever see me as anything other than the stuttering idiot who happened to be best friends with his younger sister.

"Huh?"

Another huff. Then his head whips around, and he pins me in place with the intensity of his gaze.

"The first time I met you, I was... intrigued."

My jaw drops in shock. I had no clue he'd even noticed me that day. His brow furrows slightly as he recalls that encounter.

"I was surprised by my reaction—and a bit annoyed with myself—because you were just a friend that my kid sister brought home from school one weekend. And to be totally honest, I didn't quite understand my fascination because you were definitely _not_ my type."

Snapping my jaw shut, I scowl at him. "Geez, Edward. Thanks a lot," I grumble.

He laughs awkwardly and his cheeks flush slightly. "Let me finish," he remonstrates.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow, indicating that he should continue. He nods briefly then shoves a hand in his hair.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…" He flashes a teasing smile in my direction, but it quickly fades. His eyes slide away to stare at a spot out the window, and his tone is serious when he speaks again. "There was definitely something about you that captured my attention. Something… _different_. You weren't like any other girl I had met—or any of the girls I typically dated—and I wanted to get to know you."

He pauses for a moment and takes a fortifying breath.

"But you were just nineteen, Bella," he states fervently. "A freshman in college. I was twenty five, a third year med student. I was older and jaded, and… Well, it just wasn't right. Not then. So I didn't talk to you. Not the way I wanted."

I don't want to interrupt this story, but at this point, I _need_ some sort of a physical connection with him. So, I reach out and grab his hand. His fingers close around mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against my palm as he continues talking.

"Instead, I listened to Alice talk about you. Every time she was home, you were pretty much all she talked about. Her new best friend. I found myself calling her and coming home to visit Mom and Dad more often than I had in the past, just so I could hear about you."

He looks up. Once again, his eyes burn me with their intensity.

"I know more about you than you realize, Bella. I know... _you_. Not just the parts you've told me about over the last week, but what's inside. I've listened and observed for three years. I know that you're kind and caring, that you always put others first. I've seen you grow and change and mature, and I've watched your inner beauty transcend anything and everything.

"So… No. I don't think this is moving too quickly. It's been a _long_ time coming. But at the same time, just because it's been there, simmering beneath the surface for years, doesn't mean that we should rush it now." He squeezes my hand gently and sighs softly. "Hell, Bella… I've waited a long time for this—for _you. _Waiting a little longer, just to make sure everything is right, won't hurt."

He tempers his words by bringing his hand to my face and cupping my cheek. His thumb resumes its soothing motions, and I close my eyes at the tenderness of his gesture.

"Okay?" he asks gently.

In all honesty, I'm a bit overwhelmed by his confession. So much is riding on this for both of us. The uncertainty that I've just seen wavering in his eyes lets me know that he needs reassurance, too. Tilting my head, my lips caress his palm.

"Yeah," I whisper. "It's okay. But I have some questions."

"Anything."

Settling in, I recapture his hand with my own. We talk for hours, holding hands, stealing an occasional kiss, and getting to know each other. Connecting. The way we should have years ago.

As he said, it's been a long time coming.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I have a confession… the dancing? Totally me and my hubs! I _**love**_ dirty dancing, and he has absolutely no rhythm whatsoever. It's very disappointing. I'll blame it on him being a frat boy from the deep South; dancing at frat houses at the University of Alabama is literally standing around, watching live bands and bobbing the head, at least according to him. The first time I tried to get him to dance? Yup. Total disaster! *face palm* However, if I get him a little tipsy, then he loosens up enough to move a bit more freely. Alternatively, if I can get him to stand still, then I can just dance on/around him. That's kinda fun, too. LOL

Ah… the days of making out in cars. It's been a while, but I have fond memories of dark parking lots and my old Mazda MX-6. *sigh*

See you guys tomorrow!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing and to **Legna989** for pre-reading.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Saturday May 14, 2011<br>****6:30 a.m.**

Jasper obviously doesn't have the same compunction in his budding relationship with Alice as Edward does with ours. As soon as I walk in the door from my evening _out_, I'm subjected to evidence of their evening _in_. Jasper is standing in the kitchen, wearing only his boxers, eating a slice of left-over pizza and talking to Alice, who's seated at the table with one of her sheets wrapped toga-style around her obviously-naked body. They look… rough. Tired. And completely satisfied. Alice's cheeks and chest are flushed, her hair is all over the place, and wait… Is that a hickey on her neck?

Holy shit!

I must have spoken out loud, because they both whip around to look at me. If it was me, I would have been mortified to be discovered like this. But I have boundaries. Alice obviously doesn't; she just grins cheekily.

"Morning, sunshine!" she greets cheerily. Then her eyes pinch slightly as she takes in my rumpled clothing and tired expression. "Have you been out there in Edward's car all night?"

I just nod.

"You have a good time?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

Leaning against the doorjamb, I cross my arms on my chest as I take in the scene of domestic—and obviously post-coital—bliss. Jasper wanders to the table and rests his arm across her shoulders. Bending down, he whispers something in her ear, and she giggles in response. When she reaches out to tickle his stomach, he whirls away quickly.

My jaw drops. Oh, my God. Are those _scratch marks_ on his back?

"Obviously not as 'good' as you did," I grumble under my breath.

She just laughs.

"Well, if you'd waited to jump Edward until _after_ you got him out of the car, I guarantee it would have been much, much better." She smirks. Then she winks before reaching over and pinching Jasper on the ass. "That's what bedrooms are for, right Jazzy?"

"That's right, darlin'," he agrees. "Much more room to… perform."

"Not to mention, no steering wheels in the back," she adds with another wink.

Does that mean that they'd seen us in the car?

_Great_.

I feel my cheeks flame. In the years that have passed since I'd last made out in a car, I've obviously forgotten about discretion. Damn it to hell! We were dry-humping in the apartment building parking lot where anyone could have—correction: obviously _had_—seen us.

Oh shit… Does our apartment complex have surveillance cameras? Is it possible that I just made my very first sex tape? Wait… Edward and I most definitely did _not_ have sex, so technically, it wouldn't be a sex tape. Just a make-out tape. But that's semantics. Either way, I'll have to remember to check that out later.

While my brain is busy worrying about the negative repercussions of making out in cars, Jasper bends down to nuzzle at Alice's neck. Her eyes drift shut and she moans softly as she leans into his caress. Their boldness is just too much. In so many ways. Yes, it's blatant and brash and more than I really want to see—despite what my actions last weekend might suggest, I'm really a pretty modest person, while Alice obviously isn't. But it's more than that; they've obviously taken their relationship to the next level, and I have to admit that I'm just a bit… jealous.

I attempt to diffuse the tension by making a joke. "My eyes, my eyes!" I groan.

"You don't have to watch, Bella," Alice remonstrates. Her eyes slide to me, and she waggles her eyebrows. "Although if you want to… We're all friends here…"

Her fingers inch their way under the elastic in Jasper's boxers and pull them out slightly. I turn away with a squeak and flee to my room, Alice's tinkling laugh chasing me all the way. I know that she's just fucking with me, but I still don't think I will look at the kitchen—or Alice—the same way ever again.

As I shut the door on the noises now coming from the front of the apartment, I recall something that Edward told me last week. Changing up the words just a bit, it's completely fitting.

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

_Damn_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Yes, this was a shortie, but I really felt I needed to lighten the mood a bit after the last chapter. Not to worry, though… Next chapter will make up for the brevity of this one—it's the longest chapter of the entire story, as Bella and Edward have a bit more talking to do.

I don't have any blatantly obvious room-mate sex stories to tell, but I did get snowed into my apartment for 5 days with my room-mate and her boyfriend in my senior year of college. He was a nice buy, but a rather large, slovenly fellow (I don't think he realized that his t-shirt didn't cover his whole stomach—there was lint hanging out of his belly button. Ugh.). That was a lot of fun. Not. LOL.

And wow! So many of you commiserated with me about having BFs/husbands that aren't able to dance. Glad I'm not alone.

See you guys tomorrow!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing and to **Legna989** for pre-reading.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

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><p><strong>Wednesday May 18, 2011<br>****7:15 p.m.**

Edward is working day shifts this week, which makes it easier for us to see each other. In fact, we've had dinner together every evening since Friday, although we haven't pulled another all-nighter; Edward had to be at work at six each morning, and I had exams on Monday, Tuesday, and today, so he made sure to bring me home at a decent hour each night. While there hadn't been a repeat of our make-out session, we had shared a handful of heated kisses. And conversation.

A _lot_ of conversation.

In fact, Edward seemed hesitant to do much more than talk. So hesitant, he hadn't even come inside when he delivered me to my door at the end of each evening.

Unfortunately, I'm getting really tired of talking.

Despite my frustration, at some deeper level, I truly do appreciate Edward's gentlemanly behavior; I have to concede it's nice that he's taking the time to get to know _me_, before getting to know me (if you know what I mean). But would it really be so bad to get to know those parts of me, as well?

I'm hoping that's about to change. Tonight, I don't have a curfew—my exams are finally over, and his past excuse of 'you have to study' is now gone. I smile at the thought. The smile changes to a questioning frown, though, when I look out the window and realize that we're driving through a residential part of town.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

There's a slight pause before he answers. "I thought maybe we could have dinner somewhere a bit more quiet tonight?"

I look at him with a frown as we pull into a parking deck attached to a high-rise building.

"I'm tired of going out every night," he says with a small, tired sigh.

I stiffen at his words, and he reaches over to grab my hand as soon as he parks. Bringing it to his mouth, he places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

"I'm not tired of _you_, Bella. I'm just tired of going… _out_. I want to relax tonight. I want _us_ to relax tonight. It's a big day—your last day of college."

I hadn't really thought of it like that until he said it. Suddenly, it hits me. It _is_ a big day—my last as a college student. In a few short days, I'll graduate and this part of my life will be over. I'm not quite ready to think about all of that right now.

"So, where exactly are we?" I ask as a way to divert my attention.

Another pause.

"My apartment," he says as he plucks the keys from the ignition and gets out of the car.

My heart starts racing at his words. From our previous conversations, I know that Edward lives alone. Maybe he's getting tired of talking, as well. Anticipation begins to build inside me as I watch him walk around the car, open my door, and reach out to me. When I take his hand, a warm wave of awareness dances up my arm and settles in my chest. And lower.

"So, we're eating in tonight?" I ask in surprise.

He nods.

"As in, you're gonna cook for me?"

"Yup."

I look at him in disbelief. "Really?"

He chuckles slightly at the obvious incredulity in my tone. Then he shrugs.

"I like to cook. It's relaxing."

I nod in agreement and smile. I feel the same way.

"I used to watch my mom in the kitchen when I was a kid," he continues. "Sometimes she let me help. I learned quickly. I'm pretty self-sufficient now. Unlike some of my friends."

Not to mention, family.

"So, I'm just curious… Where was Alice during these 'cooking lessons' with your mom?" I ask with a smirk.

"Not in the kitchen."

I snort. Loudly. "No shit," I say.

It's no secret that Alice is a disaster in the kitchen. She's been known to burn noodles while trying to boil them. After a situation involving nothing more than bacon and eggs resulted in a call to the fire department the first week we were in the apartment, I banned her from cooking. In fact, she's not supposed to be in the kitchen at all without supervision anymore.

By this time, we've reached his door, so after unlocking it, he ushers me in. I take a moment to look around. His apartment is neat and clean, and on the surface, it's the typical bachelor's pad: all dark, masculine colors and stark simplicity. But upon closer inspection, there are a few personal touches that provide a hint of information about its occupant.

A picture of Edward and his family at the beach graces the mantle.

A stack of medical journals spills haphazardly across the coffee table, and a lab coat with his name embroidered on the front pocket is hanging on the back of a nearby chair.

An almost-threadbare quilted blanket is lying on the sofa. I know that blanket had likely been a gift from his grandmother when he was born because Alice has a similar one in our apartment. I smile gently as I walk across the room and caress the worn patchwork.

"Shall I give you the tour?" he asks, interrupting my musings.

"Sure." I try my best to keep my voice calm and steady, to not sound as eager as I feel.

"Well, as you've probably deduced, this," he waves his arms to encompass the room we're standing in, "is the living room."

I roll my eyes, and he chuckles softly. Reaching out, he grabs my hand and tugs me deeper into his apartment. He points out the kitchen and small dining area on our way to the hallway. The back half of the apartment contains a small home-office, the bathroom, and finally, his bedroom.

When I step into his room, I'm once again taken with the masculine simplicity. It's furnished with only the basic necessities—a dresser, a small night stand, and the bed, all in a dark, almost-black finish. It could have felt cold and uninviting, but it doesn't. Instead, it feels warm and alive. Like a moth to the flame, I'm drawn to the huge bed which is covered by a dark gold bedspread that gleams slightly in the soft light. The pads of my fingers slip easily against the cool, silky material. Closing my eyes briefly, I inhale. All of my senses are immediately saturated by Edward.

Opening my eyes, I turn to find him staring at me. He's leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed on his chest in a display of relaxation, but I can tell it's just an act; his hands are fisted slightly, and unchecked desire dances across his face. That look causes my breath to catch and my knees to buckle. I sink back against the bed. Held captive by his heated gaze, I don't even realize he's crossed the room until he's standing right in front of me, his hand on my cheek.

"Bella…."

His lips devour. His tongue strokes and sucks. Warm fingers push their way into my hair and tug gently, urging my head to tilt backward. When I comply, his lips and nose nuzzle the tender skin that I've exposed to him.

I sigh in satisfaction when he pushes me back against the mattress, his body coming to rest on top of mine. For a moment, I lay absolutely still, unmoving except for the trembling in all my limbs, relishing the feel of him lying on top of me. When he nips roughly at my collarbone, my body flies into action—arms and legs wrap themselves tightly around him. Tilting my hips slightly, I find him hard and hot and pressed against the place where I want him the most. With a wanton moan, I buck my aching groin against him. He stills instantly, his breath harsh against my heated skin.

"No," he mumbles against my neck. It sounds as if he's arguing with himself.

My body rebels when he pulls away slightly. But then he groans softly and collapses against me as if in defeat. His head drops to my shoulder while he struggles to regain control.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he rasps. "This isn't why I brought you here."

I groan slightly in response, missing the feel of his mouth on my skin. Although his body is still a pleasant weight on top of me, and the evidence of his arousal is still pressed intimately against me, I feel as if I've been cheated. His chest is heaving slightly, and I take a moment to rub my hands gently up his sides, savoring the way his body shudders and his muscles clench beneath my lightly teasing fingertips.

"It's okay, Edward," I soothe. "I want this. I want _you._"

He raises his head, spearing me with his gaze. It's heated, feral and needy, yet at the same time apologetic and frustrated. As I watch, the fire slowly dies down in his overly-bright green irises until it is nothing but a faint simmer. Eventually, even that flickering flame dies out. With a final sigh, he releases me from both his questioning gaze and his imprisoning weight; pushing himself away from me, he stands up.

My entire being cries out in dissatisfaction at the loss, and I whimper just a little in disappointment.

"I don't want to rush things, Bella." One of his hands brushes my cheek softly. "Not with you."

There's something in his words that causes me to frown slightly. Something he's _not_ saying about this situation. I sit up and eye him questioningly.

"You deserve better than this."

My frown turns into a frustrated scowl.

"Edward?"

He looks at me.

"Did I stop you?"

"Huh?"

"Did I ask you to stop or say 'no'?"

He just stares at me, refusing to answer my question, and I can't help but roll my eyes slightly at his stubbornness.

"To answer that question: No, I didn't."

"Bella," he chastises, objection obvious in his voice.

Getting a bit irritated by his reticence, I huff. My hands begin to flail slightly.

"I'm not some delicate flower, Edward. I'm not going to wilt if we make out, or heaven forbid, take it further than that. I'm a big girl, and F.Y.I., that particular 'flower' was plucked long ago. So really, there's no need for the Victorian principles, as noble as they may be."

The look that flashes briefly in his eyes—an odd mixture of disappointment and relief—causes my jaw to drop.

"Wait… Did you think that I was… a _virgin_?"

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to. Once again, the look on his face tells it all—his cheeks have taken on a slightly-rosy hue, and his eyes won't quite meet mine.

_He did think that!_

Why he held that misguided idea, I don't even want to know. A sharp, barking laugh escapes my lips. And once that one escapes, I can't stop. The tension that has been building inside of me releases with each of my teary-eyed gasps. When I finally get my breath back, Edward has gone from looking conflicted to looking annoyed.

"Well, I'm not," I state. "So you can get that idea out of your over-thinking head, m'kay?"

He just nods. Then extends his hand, which I grasp firmly.

"C'mon. Let's go find some dinner," he says softly, tugging gently and pulling me from the bed.

I let him lead me back to the front of the apartment and drop the subject.

For now.

~/~

An hour later, after a dinner of pasta and salad, Edward and I are on the couch watching TV. I'm lying on my side with my head in his lap. His fingers are playing in my hair, and I swear I feel like a cat curled up against his side. I can practically feel myself purring, internally at least. Each stroke of his hand against my head sends a wave of anticipation rippling through my entire being, causing my body to hum with awareness. It settles low in my stomach begins tingling expectantly between my legs, almost as if he was touching me there. Squeezing my thighs together, I arch slightly against him, and—

"Three," I blurt out suddenly, realizing that I need a distraction from thinking about his hands, and the other ways I wish that they were stroking me.

"Hmm?"

"That's my number."

"What are you talking about, Bella?" he asks distractedly.

I roll my eyes even though I know he can't see them. "You know… my _number_," I state, putting emphasis on the last word, hoping he'd get what I mean.

"If I knew what you meant, I wouldn't be asking," he all but grunts.

_I guess that was too much to hope for._

"The number of guys I've slept with," I state with a huff.

His fingers stop playing with my hair. In fact, he ceases movement of any kind—including breathing—and stiffens. Not in a good way. He also goes absolutely silent. I shift slightly so that I can tilt my head and look at him. His jaw is clenched, and he's staring at the TV as if his life depends on it.

"Edward?" I question softly.

He doesn't say anything, but his hand resumes stroking my hair. After a moment, he huffs slightly as he resumes breathing. But he still doesn't look at me.

"Talk to me," I prod.

All movement ceases once again.

"What do you want to talk about, Bella? What happened in the past is in the past. We can't change it," he states cryptically. His voice is clipped, closed.

_Hmm… Did I hit a nerve?_

"_O-kay_…" I state, drawing the word out a bit. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about it."

If I thought he was stiff before, I was sorely mistaken. Edward is now doing an award-winning impression of a statue—he's gone completely rigid. His jaw is locked, and I can see a suspicious tick at the corner of his lip. He doesn't look willing to talk, so I decide to take control of this conversation.

"So… I told you mine. How about you tell me yours?"

Another clenching tick.

"Edward?"

The hand that had been resting on my head rises to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He inches away from me slightly, and I take the opportunity to sit up and face him. He won't meet my eyes.

"_Edward_?" I prod, a bit more determined this time.

"More than three," he answers stiltedly.

I look at him pointedly.

"Fine," he snaps. "Ten. I've slept with ten women, Bella. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I just want to hear the truth. It doesn't really matter to me what that number is."

"You don't care?" he asks incredulously.

"Not really." I shrug. "And ten? That's really not so bad. Some of my guy friends are total man-ho's. They'll sleep with anything that has tits, no relationship needed."

While it wasn't what I was intending, my comments make me think a bit. Alice talks about her brother quite often, and she has made some cryptic comments about his romantic life over the past few years. In all honestly, I expected his number to be much higher. Ten really isn't that bad, so I don't understand why his panties are all in a bunch. But they obviously are; he's still acting uncomfortable about this conversation, and I can't really figure out why.

He's also still acting like a clam—his lips are sealed tight.

Thinking that I might have an easier time getting him to talk if I'm not staring at him, I lie back down and return my head to his lap. Reaching up, I grab his hand and put it back on my head. Edward resumes his absent stroking. I do the same to his knee.

"How many of them were serious?" I ask.

"Huh?"

Once again, I roll my eyes even though I know he can't see it.

"Of the ten, how many were you serious with at the time?"

His hand jerks slightly, tangling in my hair.

"Not many," he answers warily.

_We're getting closer…_

Wait…

"How many thought the relationship was more serious than you did?" I ask cautiously.

His hand stops moving, and his body, which had begun to relax, stiffens anew. I continue drawing what I hope are soothing circles on his knee. After a moment, I think I hear him huff.

"Most of them," he finally admits.

"So you weren't on the same page."

"No," he declares, an edge to his voice. "Definitely not."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Edward." I shrug. "In fact that's how it usually is, even if we don't want it to be like that. Someone always cares more, wants more."

"But it _shouldn't_ be like that!" he states hotly. "If I had taken the time to get to know any of them before hopping into bed…" His voice trails off.

_Bingo._

Once again, I roll over so that I can face him. Once again, he's staring at the TV. I reach up and capture his hand with my own and lace our fingers together.

"Edward, look at me."

It takes a minute, but eventually his gaze reluctantly slides down to meet mine. I'm a bit taken aback by the distress in his eyes. My fingers involuntarily squeeze.

"I'm not one of those girls," I say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Relief washes through me when his brow smooths out and at least a few ghosts of his relationships past depart his haunted gaze.

"No, you're not," he agrees.

"Besides, this relationship—_our_ relationship—is already different."

His brows pinch slightly in question.

"You said last week that you knew me, right?'

He nods.

"Well… I know you, too."

His smile droops into a slight frown.

"I do," I assert before he can state otherwise. Pushing myself upright once more, I spear him with an intense look and get ready to prove my point. "I know that you're loyal to a fault and willing to stand up for your family and friends. I know that you are a wonderfully kind and caring person, and that you, too, put others before yourself—look at your dedication at work in the past week. And speaking of work, I know that you wanted to be a doctor because your father is the most important person in your life, and you wanted to be just like him. I also know that you feared he would disapprove of your choice to go into emergency medicine rather than surgery—his specialty. He doesn't, by the way."

Edwards smiles at my conclusion, squeezing my hand gently. "How do you—"

"You weren't the only one that Alice talked to over the past few years, Edward," I interrupt before he can finish his question. I smirk at the thought that I didn't even need for him to complete his sentence to know what he was going to ask. It's proof to me that unlike his past relationships, we really _are_ on the same page.

"Who do you think is her favorite topic of discussion with me?" I continue with a roll of my eyes. "She's very proud of you, so I've probably heard as much—if not more—about you over the years as you claim to have heard about me. But I've listened and observed over the past week as well. I've learned that you are noble, that you have a very strong sense of right and wrong, and that you stand by your decisions, which is admirable. Unless, of course, you're cockblocking _me _in the process. My girlie bits are getting quite frustrated with you, Edward," I say with a faux-scowl and a _tsk_.

He laughs loudly and freely, his joyful mirth a comforting sound, especially given his recent anxiety. Lifting his hand to my lips, I kiss his knuckles lightly. Then I take a quick breath and plunge back in before I can change my mind.

"And I know that, for some reason, you're scared to take the next step in our relationship. I just don't know why. But whatever it was that happened in your past, it won't happen with us. We won't let it."

The humor immediately flees his entire being. He looks confused, lost. Raw and exposed. His eyes slide away from mine, and he huffs in frustration. I'm still holding his hand, so I rub his knuckles gently.

"Edward?" I prod.

Another, more forceful huff.

"I don't want to mess this up, Bella," he admits.

His voice sounds small and uncertain. I raise my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at me again.

"You won't," I promise fervently once our gazes clash, sensing that he needs reassurance. "I won't let you. But you have to trust me, trust… _us_. Can—no, _will_—you do that?"

He nods again, a bit more confidently this time, and I lean forward until my nose brushes against his cheek.

"Good. Now, enough talking," I whisper. "Kiss me."

He does. His lips are gentle, reverent almost, as he softly explores my mouth. Tasting and teasing. Like a whisper on my skin, the kiss is a promise of so much more to come.

Suddenly, it's not enough. I need to be closer. I need to feel him. All of him.

I scramble onto his lap, straddling his legs. With a groan, his arms circle my waist and pull me even closer. A small, whimpering moan sounds deep in my throat when my hips finally align with his. Once again, he's hot and hard, and this time when I slide sinuously against him, he doesn't stop me. Instead, his hands guide my movements, pausing and pressing at just the right times to ensure that I feel the perfect amount of friction.

Abandoning my lips, his mouth blazes a trail of warm, damp kisses down my throat while his hands and hips urge me on. Pressure begins to build low in my abdomen, the tell-tale tingles sparking to life as the purposeful movements of my hips bring him into contact with the right spot again and again and again. Clenching my legs tightly around him, I moan in anticipation and encouragement. When I close my eyes and drop my head back, his mouth attacks the base of my throat. The dual sensations arising from our gyrating hips and the suction from his lips tips me over the edge, sending me spiraling into a vortex of feeling. A low, desperate keening sound fills the room, and it takes a moment to realize that it's coming from me.

"That's it, love," he encourages, grunting softly as he tilts his hips into mine one final time. His fingers dig almost-painfully into my waist as he pulls me more tightly against him. "Fuck, Bella," he groans raggedly.

I open my eyes to watch as he, too, finds release. Our gazes lock, and something passes between us in that moment. Something that binds me to him in a way I've never experienced before.

"Edward," I moan softly as I ride out the final waves of pleasure.

His eyes darken possessively when I speak his name. We continue to stare for a moment until I can no longer hold my now-boneless body upright. I collapse on his chest, spent, physically and emotionally. My fingers clutch greedily at any part of his body they can reach.

"Damn," I murmur against the slightly salty skin of his neck. "It's been a while."

It has been a while since I've felt like this—not just satiated with pleasure, but completely secure in someone else's arms.

"Yes, it has," he agrees, his hands rubbing gently against my back, his lips whispering across my brow.

Somehow, I know that he's talking about more than just the orgasm, too.

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><p><strong>AN:** Ok… I think it's safe to say that these guys are finally on the same page. Yay! No more beating around the proverbial bush. Bwahaha

Truths from this chapter: The "did I stop you" line? Yeah… I used that one the first time my at-the-time boyfriend went past one of my previous sexual boundaries. He was quite upset at the time. I've only had the 'number' conversation with one guy (now hubs), and just like Bella, his number really didn't matter to me. I just wanted to know about his previous relationships. And of my three serious adult relationships, all of those guys enjoyed our dry-humping sessions just as much as I did, if you catch my drift. *winks*

One chapter left and this one will be complete…

See you guys tomorrow!


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer****: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to **araeo** and **duskwatcher2153** for betaing and to **Legna989** for pre-reading.

**A/N:** Well guys, this is it—the final episode of this fun, fluffy little tale. This story was a blast to write, although I must admit that I'm now sick of Katy Perry's song (at least 300 times while writing) and The Hangover (5 times in the last week). Haha!

I just want to take a minute to thank you each and every one of you for all of your support. It means the world to me! Each hangover story that you provided gave me a good chuckle, and your commiseration with non-dancing significant others makes me feel not quite so alone in this world. *hugs*

So, without further ado…

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><p><em><strong>Last Friday Night<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday May 21, 2011<br>****10:00 a.m**.

I come to slowly, same as always—I'm not a morning person—but it doesn't take long for me to realize that something most definitely isn't normal this morning.

The birds that wake me up every day sound as if they are screeching into a megaphone that's aimed directly at my ear. My mouth is desiccated, revealing that I did some indulging last night. I'm miserably hot and all of my limbs feel as if they're strapped to the bed—despite my half-hearted attempts, I'm completely unable to move. If I'm honest with myself, however, I have to admit that I have no desire to move. I'm right where I want to be.

Trapped in Edward's arms.

Despite my low-grade headache—brought on by too much alcohol and too little sleep—I sigh in absolute contentment as I snuggle back against Edward's comforting warmth. He grunts softly in his sleep, and the arm that's resting on my waist tightens slightly, pulling me even closer.

Closing my eyes, I try to recall all the details from last night. I frown when I realize that for the second time in two weeks, I have very little recollection of certain parts of the previous evening. Once again, it's a complete blur. But unlike the last time, hints of memory tease at the edges of my consciousness; as I wake further, the details start to become clear in my mind.

It all started with graduation yesterday. Yes, I'm now a newly-minted college graduate. I had an early dinner with my parents after the ceremony, then met up with Alice later in the evening. We started indulging early. After all, you only graduate college once, right? A couple of bottles of champagne in our apartment with Angela and Rose turned into drinks at New Moon, and eventually another appearance at Trinity, which has now officially become our Friday night routine. The guys joined us at New Moon, after an appropriate amount of girls-only time had passed.

I ran into Jake as soon as we entered the club. It was the first time I'd seen him since the incident two weeks ago, so things were a bit uncomfortable at first. But the awkwardness passed almost as quickly as it came when he introduced us to his date for the evening. Her name was Ness, and she was really sweet. She was also smart and pretty, and she didn't put up with any of Jake's whiney bullshit. I liked her immediately. I could also tell that Jake was entirely taken with her. We have plans to go out for dinner with them next week.

After that, things get a bit fuzzy for a while.

Across the room, my phone chirps, and Edward shifts behind me. His arm tightens, alerting me to the fact that he's waking up.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he mumbles sleepily.

"Last night."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

He hums against the back of my neck. I decide to fuck with him just a bit.

"Edward? What happened last night?"

I know the exact moment my words register, because he stiffens slightly.

"What?" he asks in an exasperated voice.

"Last night," I repeat, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice. "What happened? My brain's a little fuzzy. Damn, I have a headache. What the hell did we do? Drink the entire bar?" I groan a little, just for good measure.

"Are you serious, Bella? You don't remember?"

"Well, I remember New Moon, and going to Trinity. Jake. And doing shots with Jasper. What the hell were we drinking?"

"Um, Jäger, I think."

"What?"

_I honestly __**don't**__ remember that._

"Yeah. Alice told us that it was your favorite drink. A little odd if you ask me, but hey, it was your night…."

Come to think of it, I really don't remember too many specifics about our time at the club. We were downing drinks like Kool Aid at that point. But Jäger? Really? Again?

_Ugh._

Thanks a lot, Alice.

I vaguely recall drinking and dancing—and that dancing with Edward this time around was a lot better that the first time I tried. That's probably because I was so drunk that even I couldn't keep a beat.

_Note to self: In the future, get completely shit-faced before dancing with Edward. _

"You finally gave me that private show," he reminisces. "Later in the evening, of course—I wouldn't let you strip in the club, even though you seemed willing. Let me tell you, the other guys weren't too happy when I carried you out."

I can't help but blush, recalling my actions. Then I snuggle deeper into his embrace. Any momentary embarrassment is worth it. I'm with Edward this morning.

"You put on a pretty impressive show, yourself," I remind him with a nudge of my elbow.

"But your response…"

He pauses, and I can't help but groan just a bit as I recall my reaction to seeing him naked for the first time.

"You fucking sighed at the sight of my penis, Bella."

"So?" I state defensively.

"That's not a normal response," he states.

"So, tell me. What should I have said or done?"

"Well… something like, 'Wow, Edward. It's so big!' would have been much better."

He speaks in an overdone falsetto, and I can't help but laugh.

"Wow, Edward," I gasp between guffaws. "What a big… _ego_ you have!"

His arms squeeze me just a little bit tighter, but I can't stop laughing.

"I swear, Bella, it was like you'd never seen a cock before."

I sigh. "You don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Well, let's just say that my last boyfriend was a bit lacking in the penile department."

"So, he had a small dick. Was that a good reason to look at my johnson like it was a bratwurst and you hadn't been to a cookout in years? Just how hungry were you, Bella?" he asks with a small, ironic chuckle at his very obvious penis reference.

"Let's just say that sexy times with my ex weren't in fact, sexy. It was more like a 'Mr. Chow' experience."

"Huh?"

"You know, that Chinese dude in _The Hangover_? You see him in all his glory, but you're still left wondering what it was that you really saw, if he really had a dick at all?"

He laughs against my neck. The feel of his warm breath teasing my skin causes me to shiver slightly.

"So, yeah. I fucking sighed when I saw your large, wonderfully glorious cock."

He makes an appreciative grunt at my declaration and presses said glorious cock into my backside—it pokes me insistently, and I can't help but moan just a little in response.

"That's much better, Bella. Thank you," he whispers against my ear, his lips nipping gently. "Although, just so you know, it's really pretty average."

"No it's not," I state fervently. "To me, that sucker's the monster of all monster cocks. I feel like I've won the penis lottery or something."

He chuckles. "You really are good for my ego."

"You're good for me, period."

We're torn from our teasing when my phone chirps yet again from the other side of the room.

"Damn it," I grumble.

"You gonna get that?"

"Do I have to?"

"No."

"Good," I state as I roll over.

Scooting as close as I can, I hitch one leg over his hip and feel the evidence of his impressive arousal pressing against me in just the right place. Threading my fingers into his silky hair, I tug his face to mine and brush my lips against his. His hand has just settled on my hip, and is urging me closer, when my phone beeps for what seems like the hundredth time in the past half-hour.

"Damn it!" I curse more vehemently this time.

"If it's bothering you that much, why don't you just turn it off," he mumbles against my lips.

"Good idea. Don't move!" I instruct, pointing my finger at him as I rise from the comfortable cocoon in which we've been wrapped.

Padding to my desk, I pick up my phone. I have every intention of just turning the damn thing off until I see the screen. Several pop-up windows indicate that I have unchecked messages—both emails and texts. A weird sense of déjà vu descends on me, and before I realize it, I've hit the icon for my email. I have to wait a moment while it loads. When it finally does, my brow furrows.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim.

"What?" Edward asks from across the room.

"I have a shitload of email. It looks like at least ten alerts from FaceBook and…" I pause to mentally calculate. "Probably double that from Twitter."

Despite my previous order, Edward's arms slip around me from behind. His chin comes to rest on my shoulder while I scroll through the alerts.

I open a random message from FaceBook, which directs me to a page with a photo.

"Oh, fuck. Not again."

The force of Edward's chuckle shakes my entire body. Then he plucks my phone from my fingers and hits the power button. Turning me around, he searches my eyes. His smile fades slightly.

"There's no need to look at any of the others. That was the worst of them," he states confidently.

I close my eyes and try to erase the memory of me dancing with the pole at the club.

Again.

"At least there were no cameras present when we went skinny-dipping."

_Or later, when we got back to my apartment_, I think with a happy sigh. I know I must look like the Cheshire cat, because my cheeks can't stretch wide enough to contain my satisfied smile.

In another moment of déjà vu, I find myself asking the same question I had two weeks ago.

"What the hell did we do last night?" I whisper.

"Are you sure you really want to know?"

His response induces another wave of nostalgia, although the twinkle in his eye and his wide smile reveal that he knows I'm fully aware of each and every one of our actions the previous evening. I nod, and he pulls me in for a hug and kisses my forehead. Then he leans back and eyes me carefully.

"Do you trust me, Bella?" he asks, his voice totally serious.

His question takes me a bit off guard, but I smile at the surety of my immediate response. I've never been more confident of anything in my life. In this moment, I realize that what I thought I felt for Edward in the past was insignificant; the 'love' I imagined was nothing more than just a crush. What I feel for him now, in this one singular moment, far exceeds anything I've experienced with anyone in the past. I'm not exactly sure of what it is yet—it's too soon for the deep abiding love I hope to find one day—but I'm pretty sure we're on the right track.

Lifting up on my toes, I throw my arms around his shoulders and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

"Of course I do."

This time, he nods, and a breathtaking smile breaks on his lips.

"Then all you really need to know is that we had one hell of a good time."

He's not telling me anything I don't already know.

.

.

.

_The End_

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><p><strong>AN:** Yes, this story is now complete; I have no plans to add any additional chapters.

So… the question you all are likely asking at this point: Did they or didn't they? Well… It's all up to you! Whatever your heart imagines for these two, be it some basic making out or a full-on lemon—sweet, sensuous, or down-and-dirty—that's what happened last night. Use your imagination. Just make it good, okay? Bella's been frustrated long enough. LOL

Thank you all so much for reading!

I love you all.

:)

KL


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